Blood Bonds
by Lady Red Darkness
Summary: Merrill learns that blood magic can never truly save a life at the brink of death. There are always sacrifices and consequences.
1. Discovery

Blood Bonds

_Merrill learns that blood magic can never truly save a life at the brink of death. There are always sacrifices and consequences._

Chapter 1: Discovery

It was much too silent in the halls of the guard barracks. Merrill shifted uncomfortably as she leaned her back against the wall outside of Aveline's office. It was nearing the end of the day and the barracks hall was nearly empty, except for a few stray guards quietly changing shifts. It was also quite dim in the building. The sun was disappearing, so the shades had been drawn. The only source of light now was the soft, warm glow from torches hanging from the walls.

Hawke had entered Aveline's office a little over ten minutes ago, which had left her and Fenris alone in the hall. Creators, the air was thick! This feeling had been suffocating her all day, and it was the fault of the elf standing across from her. The atmosphere would have been much more bearable if Varric hadn't left shortly before entering Hightown, leaving Hawke, Fenris and herself to travel towards the Keep. She remembered the awkwardness she felt during their time together.

* * *

><p>Fenris had been agitated all day, more than usual anyway. He had seemed more distant and silent… well, when he hadn't been making nasty, indirect comments that had clearly been aimed towards her and her use of blood magic. Even Varric had seemed to notice Fenris's hostile demeanor.<p>

"Elf, you seem particularly broody today. Is there some sort of broody holiday going on?" Varric had joked. Fenris had given a low growl before answering.

"I am perfectly content, _Dwarf_, even if I have had better company," Fenris had practically spat out those words through his teeth. He had then turned and glared at her when he noticed that she had been watching them.

Varric had let out a low whistle. "Well, if that's not a convincing display of contentment, I don't know what is," he had said sarcastically.

Varric had given up trying to lighten the mood fairly quickly after that exchange, to her disappointment.

Fenris had continued to direct his anger and frustration at her for the rest of the morning. It had really started to drain her emotionally and physically. She had been looking forward to working with Hawke that morning. This had been one of the few times Hawke had invited her to help him on a job, one of the only days she had been able to feel useful for once!

She had began to hope for something that would help remove the dark, thick cloud Fenris had placed over her head, something to distract him from burning a hole through her with his intense glare. So when they had been assaulted by bandits and war hounds on the Wounded Coast at about noon, she'd been slightly relieved. For a moment she had thought that perhaps now he would be able to focus the rest of his anger on these poor Mabari and bandits, instead of making snide remarks about her nearly every hour. She later realized how very naïve that thought had been. When the last of the bandits had fallen, nothing had seemed to change. She had been foolish to think that a couple of bandits and Mabari hounds would suffice. Next time she'd remember to wish for a High Dragon.

* * *

><p>They had finished patrolling The Wounded Coast late in the evening, and they had been now on their way to report to Aveline. The sun had been low on the horizon, enveloping the city of Kirkwall in an orange haze.<p>

"Well, Hawke, if we're done here I think I'll be heading back to The Hanged Man. Bianca and I need our shuteye."

"Would you like me to be a gentleman and walk you and Bianca home?" Hawke appeared to have enough energy to joke, though fatigue had been clear on his face.

"As much as Bianca and I would love it if you did, it's probably better not to keep Guard Captain Aveline waiting," Varric had then turned to leave.

"Good night, Varric. I hope you and Bianca sleep well," Merrill had waved politely and smiled.

"Thank you, Daisy."

Varric had soon disappeared down the stairs leading to Lowtown. It had then been her, Hawke, and Fenris left to make the trip to Viscount's Keep.

During their walk to the Keep she could still hear the slight tension in Fenris's voice, even without making out his words. Fenris and Hawke had made light conversation during their walk through Hightown. At that time, Merrill had tried to mind her own, slowing her pace to give her companions some privacy. Although she had been honestly curious about what was being said, (she had thought she heard _witch_ and _mage_ a couple of times) she would rather not agitate Fenris further by eavesdropping. As their voices had became louder, she had been getting increasingly nervous. From what she had been able to see, at that moment, Hawke seemed to have had enough of whatever Fenris had been going on about.

"Fenris." Hawke had said sternly; his eyes peering through the slit of his lids at Fenris. "Not now. Not today."

"_T'ch_. Very well." Fenris's voice had made it clear that the conversation was merely postponed and certainly not over.

Fenris had turned to look at her briefly, a scowl already on his face. Merrill had pretended to stare at the clouds. Now she was really curious about their conversation.

There had been silence the rest of the way to Viscount's Keep.

* * *

><p>And now here she was, leaning against the wall, staring at Aveline's door, across from Fenris who, last time she checked, was also leaning against the wall, arms tightly crossed, resting his eyes <em>angrily <em>(she hadn't thought that was even possible!). She glanced at him quickly, and yes, he was indeed in the same position as before. She could swear that, even though he hadn't spoken more than a few sentences directly to her for nearly the entire time they had spent together, he was silently cursing her. Which she was well aware of and had expected; however today felt as though he was putting in the extra effort. She knew that even when his eyes were closed, he was staring daggers at her. Whenever she had spoken, hummed, coughed, or even when she had sneezed, his jaw had tightened. She should already have been used to it by now, and she usually did ignore most of his comments, either about her or about mages in general, but today just felt so much worse. Maybe it was because she had been feeling worse about herself lately.

"Advert your eyes, witch."

She hadn't realized she had been staring. She hadn't even really been looking at him, more like past him, but it wasn't really worth explaining.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I…I'm just tired." She smiled weakly at him, out of habit more than anything. Fenris looked as if he is going to say something, but instead he clenched his jaw. She sighed heavily and went back to looking at Aveline's door. There must have been a lot of details Aveline was going over with Hawke. It felt as though they have been in there for hours.

"You don't belong here."

Her head shot up to look at Fenris. He was looking straight at her. When he spoke those words, there was no anger behind it, not even annoyance; it was stated as a simple fact, and that was so much more painful. Before she could even say anything, he continued.

"You put yourself, Hawke, and others at great risk; and for what? A history of defeat?" Had he been waiting to say this all day? Was this what he was talking with Hawke about? She suddenly missed the silence.

"Fenris, our people need to reclaim our heritage." She turned away from him. Her words were shaky and she could feel tears welling behind her tired eyes. "How could you turn your back to that? There is so much we don't know…" He didn't appear to be listening. Creators, this was just too much.

"Blood Magic," There was so much venom when he uttered those words. "You've sacrificed so much for nothing. You had a life. You had a family, and you abandoned them to chase ghosts." He shook his head and looked away from her. "You haven't gained strength or knowledge. You are just as useless with blood magic as you are without. This was all worth nothing…"

That was it.

"H-how could you say…I-I can't believe…oh…" Merrill turned to leave; she could hear Fenris snort.

"Leaving, are you?" She didn't have to look at him to know he was smirking. She could practically feel it. Not even acknowledging that she had heard him, she continued to rush out the door into the great hall of the building.

Tears were already streaming down her face. She tried to quiet her weeping. Merrill was unsure of what exactly she wanted to do or where she wanted go. Her instinct was to run all the way back to the Alienage and cry herself to sleep, and she was ready to do so. However there were a few guards silently conversing by the exit; she really didn't want to be seen like this.

She still felt hysterical, her breathing was short and heavy; she needed to be alone to calm herself. Without any true direction, she walked up the stairs, through the unguarded doors, into a large empty room with benches lined on both sides. She took a seat on the bench closest to the corner of the room, hugged her knees to her chest, and released everything she had been holding back.

* * *

><p>Hawke listened to Aveline's report on a group of bandits that have been interfering with shipments and robbing carts near and around the Wounded Coast. He had been helping to track this particularly rowdy group for little over a week now. They had managed to push the remaining bandits into temporary hiding; the group was weakened and Aveline was determined to put an end to their crimes. She had set patrols in search of any hint as to where the remaining members hid. A few hours before Hawke had entered her office, a couple of her guards reported that they had witnessed a small suspicious group, fitting the descriptions of some of the bandits, entering a cave near Sundermount that possibly led into an opening to the Deep Roads.<p>

"Well, Aveline, it looks as though your bandit problem is solved," Hawke leaned back in his seat and rested his chin on his right hand, "I'm sure the Darkspawn will enjoy their lovely meal."

"Hawke," Aveline sat up from her desk and paced around Hawke. "It's not that simple. These bandits must have headquarters somewhere. It would explain their ability to regroup quickly, not to mention their numbers. If this group of strays has any information, it could end all this."

Hawke sighed softly. "Aveline, I…"

"Hawke, I need you. I can't risk sending any of my guards into the Deep Roads." Aveline's voice was soft and sincere.

"Well," Hawke stood up from his seat, stretching his arms and back a bit. "Looks like I'm off to the Deep Roads…again. How soon should I leave?"

"The sooner the better."

"Tomorrow it is!"

"Thank you, Hawke."

Hawke nodded and walked towards the door. Before reaching for the knob, he turned to Aveline. "I do hope those bandits haven't gone too deep into the Deep Roads," he joked. "I don't plan on making this trip last more than a day."

"I understand, Hawke."

"Good," Hawke smiled. "Hopefully I'll bring you a nice little, _talkative_ bandit tomorrow; one that we can play good guard, bad guard with."

Aveline returned the smile and then Hawke left the room.

* * *

><p>Hawke was surprised to see only Fenris waiting for him in the hall. Fenris pushed himself off the wall and walked casually towards him, his face holding the same disinterested look as before; Hawke knew better than that. He knew Fenris long enough to know when he was masking his feelings.<p>

"Where's Merrill?"

"She left." Fenris said plainly.

"Oh, really?" Hawke gave him a knowing look. Fenris ignored him and turned away from his eyes. "Well, I suppose I'll just give Merrill her pay tomorrow before we head into the Deep Roads." Hawke reached into his pocket and pulled out a small coin purse. "Here's your coin by the way." Fenris accepted his pay.

"You mentioned the Deep Roads?"

"Ah, yes. It appears some stragglers have made a home in the Deep Roads." Hawke rubbed the back of his neck. "I could use your sword, Fenris. We're not going to be in there for long."

"I'll join you."

"Fantastic! I'll pick you up first thing in the morning."

Both Hawke and Fenris began to walk towards the main doors of the Keep. Up the stairs and out of sight, Merrill silently watched the two head for the doors.

"Once I pick you up, we're going to head to Dark Town first. Hopefully Anders isn't too busy again, I would much rather have a healer and a former Warden with us in the Deep Roads, than not." Fenris grunted at that. Hawke ignored him and continued. "If not, we'll just ask Merrill to joins us, after I pick up my trusty Dwarf." Hawke smiled at Fenris as they both exited the Keep.

Merrill walked back into the empty room.

* * *

><p>She really wished she hadn't heard that. She liked Hawke; and she knew he would never purposely do or say anything to hurt her, but…still.<p>

In a way, she knew she was just a temporary replacement for Anders; she was the only other mage in there group, since Bethany had been taken to the Circle. Hawke normally did take Anders on his adventures; it was just recently he had been asking her for aid. Lately Anders had preferred to work at his neglected clinic, rather than join Hawke.

She sighed heavily and roughly sat back down on the bench, causing it to shake beneath her. She yelped in surprise when she heard a loud thump a few feet away from her. She quickly looked for the source of the sound.

It was a book. How could have she missed that? It wasn't very far from where she had been crying. She walked over and picked it up; her fingers traced the cover slowly and carefully. The book felt rather odd. Her eyes widened when she realizes what she was holding.

"This is one of the tomes Hawke has been destroying." She remembered how much she had disapproved of Hawke ripping apart potential knowledge, banishing magic that could aid them in their journeys.

She hugged the book protectively and scanned the room. Who would leave a tome with secrets from the Fade lying on a bench in the Viscount's Keep? Well, it doesn't matter now. All she knows is that she doesn't plan on letting Hawke, or anyone else for that matter, know of this tome.

With a determined look on her face, Merrill placed the tome under one of her arms and casually walked out of Viscount's Keep. It was already dark out. A couple of guards were on patrol, torches at hand. She had to quickly make it back to the Alienage; she knew Aveline's guards wouldn't bother her, but thieves and other shady sorts would. When she made it to Lowtown, she did her best to stick to the main road, as to not to get lost and end up in an alleyway, as she often did. She quickened her pace when she saw the branches of the Alienage's vhenadahl in the distance.

Her fingers were itching to open the tome.

* * *

><p>Once she was in her home, she placed the tome on her dining table, made herself some tea and a small plate of food. She was still fairly tired from all the walking and fighting she had done with Hawke from the start of the day till late in the evening, but she knew she would not be able to sleep without, at the least, skimming a few pages.<p>

Merrill sat down at her table, sipped her tea, and began to read.


	2. Warning

Chapter 2: Warning

Merrill awoke to the sound of knocking on her door.

Slowly, she opened her heavy eyelids and studied her surroundings. She was still in her main room, at her dining table, hunched over the tome she had found last night; she didn't even remember falling asleep. She gently pushed her empty tea cup and plate to the side and stared at her tome. The last thing she remembered was reading about ancient blood magic spells; many new and stronger spells that she never would have thought to be possible.

Her thoughts were interrupted by more knocking.

"Oh, sorry! I'll be there in a moment!" She shouted loud enough for her visitors to hear. Merrill began to walk towards the door, ready to greet her guests, when she remembered the tome lying on the table. Creators, how could she have almost forgotten! She cursed silently to herself, and made her way back towards the table. She closed the tome and quickly hid it under her bed. When she finally made it to the door she wasn't surprised to see Hawke, with a cheeky smile, on the other side.

"Good morning, Merrill! I'm glad to see you've made it back on your own safely." Hawke greeted her.

"Nice to see you again, Daisy."

"Oh! Hello Hawke and Varric." She smiled and opened her door further to allow them in. As she did so, she noticed Fenris in the back, arms crossed, looking off into the distance.

"… Fenris," she greeted the elf. He ignored her and simply followed Hawke inside.

Hawke pulled out a coin purse from his pocket almost immediately after entering the room. It was decorated with a small forest-green ribbon that had been tied into a neat bow, preventing the contents from spilling out.

Merrill laughed lightly at the sight of it. Hawke had always been a good friend to her, despite leaving her out of most of his adventures; she knew it was nothing personal.

"Before I forget, here is your pay from yesterday," Hawke handed her the purse. "And look! It has a green bow on it! The same color as your eyes. Am I not a charmer?"

"More like a terrible flirt." Varric commented. Hawke gave him a comically hurt look, which actually drew a small, quiet chuckle from Fenris, who had been hiding behind both the men.

"Anyway, Merrill, I would have given your coin to you last night, but you were already gone by the time I left Aveline's office," Hawke continued.

"…oh…right. Sorry about that. I just really needed to get some rest." Merrill attempted to hide the sadness in her voice and eyes as she placed the purse on mantle of the fireplace. She then went to clear off her table. "So, I take it Anders was too busy?" She paused from her cleaning when she realized what she had said.

Hawke was visibly taken aback by her question. "Uh… yes, as a matter of fact, he was. What made you ask-"

"Oh, well he's not here! With you that is! Um…" Curse her transparency. "Would you like some tea? I could warm some water up right away!"

"That's alright, Daisy. We're here on business," Varric looked up at Hawke.

"Huh? Oh, right! Merrill, I was hoping you could come with us to the Deep Roads to hunt down some bandits," Hawke said.

"Oh sure! Not a problem. Just give me a moment to wash up and to pack a lunch." She turned and started to make her way to her bedroom.

"Would you rather we waited outside?" Hawke asked.

"Oh no, it's alright. I shouldn't take too long." She disappeared into her bedroom to grab some clean clothing to put on after her wash. Before she headed into the wash room, she took one last look at the tome hidden under her bed.

* * *

><p>"If Aveline's directions are correct and Hawke hasn't gotten us lost again…" Hawke rolled his eyes at that. "Then the entrance to this cave should just be over that hill." Varric folded the map and handed it back to Hawke.<p>

"You know, Varric, not all of us are professional map readers." Hawke slipped the paper back into his pocket. "I've never needed to use a map around Lothering," Hawke mumbled to himself.

"Now, Hawke don't beat yourself up with a stick," Varric said. "Not unless it's a really long one. With spikes." This received him a playful grunt from Hawke.

Merrill watched the friendly bantering in silence. She loved and treasured moments like this; they were so rare for her to have these days. Walking through the woods with friends, casually chatting and poking fun at one another, the sun glimmering through leaves of the trees casting beautiful shadows on the short grass and dirt, and the soft scent of flowers; it reminded her so much of the time she had spent with her clan…before she had learned blood magic, that was.

She inhaled deeply.

There was no point in thinking about such things now. She should simply enjoy this! She was out of her stuffy house, out of the Alienage, outside the walls of the city, traveling through the woods and over gentle streams with people she cared for; she should continue to admire the nature before her, along with the beautiful blue sky.

"Have you given any thought to what I've said?"

Oh look, a thunder cloud.

Merrill turned to face Fenris. She hadn't noticed that they had been walking side by side for some time now. His face held a neutral expression; it was difficult to know exactly what he was thinking.

"Yes and no," she answered as she looked down at the ground. "Honestly, Fenris, I was much too upset to truly reflect on anything you had said." She wasn't expecting sympathy, and she was not surprised when she saw none when she peered up at him through half lids.

"It was not my intention." She found that hard to believe. "I was simply stating the truth."

She sighed softly.

"I think about my choices all the time." She paused briefly. "I thought about them before last night… before I met Hawke," she flexed her fingers nervously, "…and I will continue to think about my choices tomorrow."

"You claim that, and yet you still practice blood magic?" Fenris's face darkened slightly; his voice was carrying a hint of frustration. "Do you not realize what you have lost?"

"…I...know quite well what I have lost personally." Memories of her old clan flashed through her mind. "But I'm willing to sacrifice…myself, if it means recovering even just a small piece of our heritage. I cannot stop now. Not when I feel that I am so close."

"Consequences be damned then?" Fenris' eyes felt like they were burning into her. She dropped her head down once again and watched her feet as they walked. He didn't understand her. No one has ever understood her.

Merrill remained silent.

"Someday you will see that blood magic always does more harm than good, and will always lead to suffering of a kind, whether you intend it to or not," Fenris ended the conversation there. He walked up ahead, leaving Merrill with only his words.

* * *

><p>They reached the cave after about ten minutes of navigating through the forest. The cave's opening wasn't that well hidden, just two miles off the road, surrounded by trees and a couple of large boulders. The opening itself was surprising large; it could easily be found by anyone looking for it. Not that anyone would actually want to go in; the entrance was quite foreboding.<p>

"Maker! Are these bandits daft? Who looks at a cave like this and thinks _safety_ and _refuge_?" Hawke said.

"Desperate bandits, perhaps?" Fenris offered.

"If I were a bandit, I would rather serve my ass on a silver platter to the guards than walk into this death trap," Varric said.

"You can practically feel, smell, and even taste taint coming out of the cave!" Hawke walked forward and peered into the darkness. He could see some natural sources of light a couple feet away, revealing a crooked path leading down further into the cave. "Oh, Aveline, the things I do for you," Hawke sighed.

"Why hasn't anyone sealed this entrance yet?" Merrill looked towards Varric. "I thought you said that the Dwarves sealed all the entrances to the Deep Roads, Varric."

"Oh, they did, Daisy. I'm guessing this was once an ordinary cave, filled with giant spiders and the occasional walking skeleton, until some walls started to crumble; and now it is filled with giant spiders, walking skeletons, _and_ darkspawn," Varric explained.

"I highly doubt there are darkspawn this close to the surface," Fenris interjected. "There would have been reports of darkspawn activity."

"I think Fenris is right." Hawke stepped away from the cave entrance and walked towards his companions. "I'm guessing the hole linking the cave to the Deep Roads was created recently." Hawke paused for a moment. "I seriously hope these bandits are not as stupid as I think they are, and didn't go into the Deep Roads simply to avoid jail time."

"With your luck, Hawke, it wouldn't surprise me at all if they did," Fenris's said with slight smirk.

"I'm with the Elf on that," Varric added.

"Yes, yes, joke all you want." Hawke pulled out his daggers and made his way back towards the entrance. "Now enough lollygagging, we're here to capture a couple of bandits."

And with that their hunt began.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I really should have had put this note in the first chapter. ^_^;<p>

I should really thank Hatsepsut for beta-ing my story. If it were not for her, I probably would have never been confident enough in my story to publish it. She has been a wonderful beta and teacher. That is the truth. :3


	3. Nearly Lost

Chapter 3: Nearly Lost

Merrill's entire body felt rather dirty.

They had been traveling down and around the cave for nearly six hours. The air was thick and stale, with the exception of the occasional small breeze that crept through the cracks of the walls, but those were so few and far between. There was already a thin layer of sweat on her exposed skin, and parts of her clothing were soaked with perspiration as well as blood. Dirt and grime clung to the bottom of her feet and on the palms of her hands. It had become near impossible for her to keep her wounds clean. Her companions didn't look much better.

They had been attacked by several spiderlings, a few giant spiders and one queen as they explored the cave. Hawke and Fenris had been in the forefront of these battles. Their bodies were laced with superficial cuts, varying in size and depth; luckily they had not taken any serious damage. Merrill and Varric tried to keep their distance and supported their two companions whenever they could. Both Hawke and Fenris were nearly drenched in spider blood and guts, Fenris more so than Hawke. Merrill couldn't help but notice that much of the blood had dried on Fenris's hair. Parts of his once bone-white hair were now a dull brown, due to blotches of dry blood and dirt that caked large portions of it. It was an odd sight to her, though she did not fully understand why. Perhaps it was because he almost appeared to be a completely different person; he just looked like a fellow elf, a stranger, one that knew nothing of her history with her clan, or with blood magic, and didn't completely despise her…if only that were true.

Creators, where was her mind heading off to? This had to be from exhaustion.

They soon came across evidence of a small campsite. Hawke and Fenris made their way ahead and inspected the site.

"The ashes are still warm," Fenris placed a hand just above the blackened wood.

"Meaning they couldn't have gotten too far from here," Hawke continued to inspect the area around the site. He noted the amount of makeshift seats that were created with large flat stones. "Looks to me that there are about seven of them."

"Why would they go this far in just to hide?" Merrill questioned. She was truly curious.

She really hoped the bandits hadn't traveled that much further in, because despite what the men would say if asked, both Hawke and Fenris looked as though they needed to rest. The spiderlings and giant spiders had not been difficult to kill, but there numbers had given them a bit of an advantage. Even only having had supported from the sidelines, after about the fourth wave of spiders her mana had nearly been completely drained by the end of the battle. This gave her some clue as to how physically drained Hawke and Fenris had to be feeling at the moment.

"Looks like they were doing more than just hiding, Daisy," Varric crouched down and picked up a few coins and small gems that were tucked in nook between a flat stone seat and floor. "Greedy bandits," Varric muttered as he placed his findings in his coat pocket. Hawke laughed at the sight.

"And a greedy Dwarf as well!" Hawked chuckled. "Although, I guess I'm no better," Hawke rubbed his chin in thought. "That does explain why all those treasure chests were empty. Well, no matter now. Remind me to turn out their pockets once we find them; they certainly owe me for this trip."

"Robbing bandits now, are we?" Fenris looked to Hawke with a slight smile on his face.

"It isn't _robbing_, Fenris. I'm merely taking my payment," Hawke returned the smile and then continued. "Plus, that wasn't their treasure to begin with. If anything, the treasure belonged to the spiderlings, and I killed them, so now the treasure is rightfully mine- so there."

"Ah, the logic of Serah Hawke," Varric said as he stood up. "You should probably leave that part out of your report when you head back to Aveline. I'm not sure how she feels about robbing robbers."

"Payment, Varric!" Hawke crossed his arms. "Though I'm sure Aveline wouldn't care _that _much about the integrity of the bandits' finances, I don't plan on telling her. I don't need her coming up with excuses not to pay me my full coin. Like last time."

"If I recall correctly, a perfectly good caravan was burnt in the crossfire," Fenris sent a look to Merrill.

"…sorry about that…again." Merrill rubbed her arms and looked down. Fenris never seemed to miss an opportunity to bring up her past mistakes.

"That's ok, Daisy."

"I don't see why it had to come out of our pay. When you're fighting hordes of mabari and bandits _some things_ are bound to be destroyed. A large cart in the middle of the road is no exception," Hawke defended her.

"We should really be moving if we plan on catching these bandits before sun down." Fenris began to make his way around the corner. The three other companions soon followed.

* * *

><p>They found their way into a large cavern; parts of the ceiling and walls had crumbled to the floor. The room would had been a dead end if it were not for the man sized hole on the furthest wall. A soft orange glow escaped from the hole, filling the once dark room with an orange mist. A thin smoky atmosphere settled on the ground near and around the hole. The cave itself had been a bit warm through their travels up to this point, but this room was <em>much<em> warmer and the air felt heavy and thick.

Merrill watched as her companions came to a halt in the middle of the room. She glanced at her companions' faces; Fenris and Varric only seemed a bit fatigued and perhaps even a little annoyed about the prospect of entering the Deep Roads. Hawke was the only one visibly upset. His brows were drawn closely and his mouth had twisted in irritation. She knew Hawke especially hated dealing with darkspawn after having lost his younger brother during the blight.

"Ah, the entrance to the Deep Roads," Fenris said.

"And not a bandit in sight," Varric commented.

"Bloody bandits!" Hawke kicked a stray rock. "Why on earth would they risk their lives in the Deep Roads for treasure? A lot of good that coin will do you in the stomach of an ogre, bloody idiots."

"…So…are we going to go in, Hawke?" She asked nervously.

"We have to unfortunately," Hawke crossed his arms and turned to look at Merrill. "This is your first time entering the Deep Roads, isn't it, Merrill?" She nodded. "I'm not going to lie; it will more than likely be an unpleasant experience. Just stay close to us. I won't allow any of the darkspawn to take you."

"Take me?" She asked.

"Broodmothers," Fenris simply stated.

"I haven't personally seen one myself, but I rather not risk it," Hawke continued. His tone made her feel a bit uneasy. She wasn't used to him being serious for this long. "If you start to feel afraid, it's ok for you to hold on to me; latch on to one of my big strong arms and think of flowers, puppies or kittens." Now that was more like the Hawke she was used to. She smiled lightly.

"Thank you, Hawke." She really did appreciate that Hawke would be so concerned for her, but it did make her feel a bit weak; although admittedly, she was very nervous about entering the Deep Roads. The Deep Roads were where the darkspawn resided, after all. And while she had fought and killed darkspawn in the past, most recently with Hawke on their travels through the Wounded Coast, they had been few in number; not many darkspawn had left the Deep Roads after the end of the blight. She was unsure of what to expect once they entered the Deep Roads.

"Oh, Hawke. Always the terrible flirt, even when he is covered in spider guts, blood, dirt, and sweat; not to mention smells like darkspawn shit." Varric commented playfully.

"What's this? Jealous that you are not currently receiving my attention, Varric?" Hawke smirked.

"Hawke, you know I have my beloved Bianca."

"Ah yes, how could anyone possibly forget," Hawke rolled his eyes.

Hawke had then proceeded to walk towards the hole. The opening was large enough that two averaged sized men could fit through side by side. He inspected its stability, making sure that the entrance would not collapse after they had gone through. He stuck his upper body through and saw that the opening did indeed lead to the Deep Roads, straight onto a long road of a Thaig, one he was unfamiliar with. He pulled himself back into the room, and then faced his companions.

"Varric and I will take the lead, Fenris you take the rear, and Merrill stay in the middle." Everyone had nodded in agreement. "Speak up if you hear or see anything, because we cannot afford to be ambushed." Hawked paused for a moment and placed a hand on his chin in thought. "How are we looking on supplies?"

"Last time we checked, we were all out of healing potions." Fenris stated.

"I only have one Lyrium potion left, and my mana is regenerating, but still fairly low." Merrill said.

"Save that potion, Merrill," Hawke ordered. "Use it only as a last resort. If your magic runs low during battle and you see that we have everything under control, it is ok to stand back and regenerate." Merrill nodded. Hawke then turned and made his way back to the opening. "We are only going to travel, at the most, two hours in. If we don't find any of the bandits or if we have taken too much damage, we're done. We're done and we head back and report to Aveline. Anyone has any concerns?" Hawke took their silence as a 'no'. "Good. Let's go."

Hawke entered the opening and dropped down to the floor of the Thaig. Merrill and the others soon followed.

Once Merrill entered the Thaig fully, she was struck by a tremendous amount of heat. It didn't take long for a new layer of sweat to form under the old. She could feel the liquid already running down her neck and back underneath her clothing. It was making her quite uncomfortable.

"Oh, Creators," she whispered, though loud enough to be heard.

"Oh, Creators is right! Varric, how could the dwarves live in this?" Hawke wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

"T'ch, I could think of a few ways," Varric joked. "But in all seriousness, I don't think this place has always been this hot," he pointed to the cracks in the wall that were seeping a small amount of bright, thick orange liquid, "it seems Mother Nature has been breaking through over the centuries."

"Looks like we should avoid contact with the walls then," Fenris stated.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Hawke sighed and quickened his pace down the long path. "Maker, it feels like my family jewels are melting off."

"Why would you bring your family's jewels to the Deep Roads? Aren't you afraid you might lose them, or a darkspawn might steal them away?" Merrill asked sincerely. Fenris let out a low groan of annoyance behind her.

"Hawke, not in front of Daisy," Varric reprimanded.

"Yes, yes, I forgot. I should really know better by now," Hawke then continued, "but to answer one of your questions, Merrill, I would never allow a darkspawn anywhere near my family jewels, that I'm certain of."

* * *

><p>They continued to make their way down the broken beaten road in silence. The thaig reeked of darkspawn, though they had yet to see one, either living or dead. Merrill kept her ears open for any sounds that may suggest that a potential enemy may be lurking. She noted that the thaig was eerily silent with the exception of their own light footsteps; a rhythmic sound of rubber soles of boots and sweaty feet meeting hot stony ground.<p>

Twenty minutes had passed, and still no bandits or darkspawn in sight. They had made their way through several corridors and two large stone rooms that had contained nothing but empty chests and a couple of ancient skeletal remains. Merrill had a hard time figuring out if that were a good sign or a bad sign. It wasn't as if she looked forward to fighting darkspawn, or even bandits for that matter, she was just beginning to feel anxious due to the wait and uncertainty.

They had soon found themselves on a wide stone bridge. Parts of the bridge looked unstable; there were large cracks along the floor and walls of the bridge, while some portions were completely broken off, revealing a sea of molten rocks below. Merrill snuck a peek at the miles of hot orange sea, despite her better judgment; the sight made her feel slightly faint. She stopped walking abruptly when she saw that Hawke had raised a hand up for them to halt.

"There are bodies up ahead," Hawke stated and then carefully and silently walked towards the bloody bodies. He knelt down and inspected the mangled corpses; there were several large gashes across their stomachs and bite marks on their neck and face. "I think we've found our bandits," Hawke began to check their pockets; among several coins and trinkets of low value were letters and a map. "Aveline would want to see this," Hawke then pocketed everything he found.

"The bodies look fresh," Fenris gave Hawke a concerned look. "Whatever has done this is still close by. We should be on our guard."

"Agreed," Hawke stood up. "Hopefully we can make it out of here without a fight."

They were soon about to make their way back off the bridge and out of the Deep Roads, when a loud ear shattering shriek was heard in the distance, followed by the sounds of a series of heavy armored boots running towards them from both ends of the bridge.

"Curse my luck!" Hawked shouted as he removed his blades from his back. "Look alive!" They all readied their weapons.

Merrill heard her heart beating rapidly in her ears, nearly drowning out the shrieks and shouts from the approaching darkspawn. She almost lost her grip on her staff when the first horde came into sight. Hawke and Varric turned to deal with the darkspawn flanking them, leaving her and Fenris to guard the front. She begun to walk towards the horde, ready to release her tempest spell, when a strong hand suddenly gripped one of her shoulders and roughly yanked her back.

"Keep behind me, witch!" Fenris's voice was strong and stern.

"But you'll be alone up there! What if-" she winced when she felt his grip tighten.

"You were ordered to stay in the middle," Fenris pulled her close to face him. "And I don't need you in my way."

He shoved her back violently, releasing her to fight the oncoming darkspawn.

Merrill watched in silence as Fenris ran forward, his large sword in hand; ready to slice anything in his path. She remained in the spot he had left her, but continued to charge her tempest spell as before. She may not catch the bulk of the darkspawn in the back of the horde as she had planned, but she could certainly help stun and damage the ones near the front for Fenris to finish off.

* * *

><p>Varric released a hail of arrows as Hawke bounced from darkspawn to darkspawn, slicing throats and limbs with his twin blades. The number of darkspawn never seemed to falter; for every one that fell, two more would appear.<p>

"They… just… don't give up!" Hawke shouted in between breaths. His stamina was nearly gone and his speed was decreasing. His eyes widened when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in one of his upper arms. Before he turned completely, his dagger ready to slice the throat of whatever had injured him, Varric's arrow flew past his eyes and entered the skull of the hurlock who had an inch of its blade imbedded in Hawke's arm.

"Another one for Bianca!" Varric shouted as he readied another arrow. "You should really watch your back, Hawke. Wouldn't want you full of more holes than Orlesian cheese."

"That's…a…bit hard to do at the moment," Hawke said as he fought off several genlocks. "I really hope Merrill and Fenris are doing better than us. We can sure use their support right about now," Hawke muttered to Varric, though he was unsure if he was heard. He then crossed blades with another hurlock. The pause in his movement allowed him to feel the bridge shaking beneath his feet. Hawke was surprised that he hadn't noticed that before. He gasped when he realized why the bridge was shaking so much.

"…Maker, please not that."

* * *

><p>Merrill screamed when a shriek charged at her. She had been providing cover for Fenris when a group of genlocks caught his attention, allowing a lone shriek to sneak past him and charge towards her. She held her staff in an attempt to block any oncoming attacks, but the shriek had been much too fast for her; the tip of its blade entered her abdomen. She screamed in pain and pushed herself off the blade. She quickly brought the sharp end of her staff up, slashing the shriek across the chest, stunning it enough for her to throw a bolt, killing it. She sighed and turned her attention back to Fenris.<p>

He was nearly on his knees.

Fenris was surrounded by genlocks and hurlocks. Merrill noted that he was panting heavily and his swordsmanship seemed sloppy; it was obvious to her that his stamina was completely drained. She attempted to rush forward towards him, prepared to unleash a few powerful bolts with the last of her mana, when suddenly her vision became distorted and the world around her seemed to be moving all at once; she lost her footing and fell onto her chest. The fall forced the air out of her lungs, and for a moment, it felt as if she had forgotten how to breathe. Merrill attempted to push herself up, but paused when she felt strong vibrations beneath her hands and knees.

"Why is-" she was cut off by a loud, terrifying roar. There was a sudden tightening in her stomach.

Her head shot up when she heard Fenris cursing loudly. He seemed to be finishing off the genlocks and hurlocks that had ambushed him. His sword sliced cleanly through the darkspawns' bloodied, rusted armor with the force of his remaining strength. All of the darkspawn had fallen at his feet. He then pierced the chest of a dead hurlock lying on the ground and leaned his tired body against his sword; slowly he tried to catch his breath. Merrill removed her eyes from Fenris and looked further behind him when she spotted something moving in the distance. It was then she saw a large, fearsome ogre charging towards Fenris with remarkable speed. Fenris had been so preoccupied fighting the large mob, and now resting, that he hadn't noticed the ground shaking nor the deep, loud roar. Merrill stood up with a sudden burst of energy and bolted towards Fenris.

"Fenris!" Merrill screamed as she ran towards him. Fenris raised his head to look at her, still leaning on his sword, panting heavily. She was much too far away to cast any spells. "There's an ogr-"

"I told you to keep back, witc-" Fenris's shout was cut off when a large, heavy hand slammed against his shoulder, causing him to land on the ground head then chest first, cracking the floor beneath his body. Fenris straggled to get up, blood dripped from his nose and mouth, and one of his arms hung limp. The ogre balled its fists and unleashed as series of powerful punches crushing Fenris's body to the ground. The sounds of iron fists meeting bones and flesh filled the air.

Merrill had never stopped running.

"I will not allow this to go on!" Merrill struck the ogre with spirit bolt once she was in range, causing it to cease its assault.

The ogre was disoriented for just a moment; a moment long enough for her to charge and throw a fireball. The flames did not seem to faze the ogre. Instead it turned to face her and let out a mighty roar. It crouched down and aimed it's horns at her direction. Merrill bit her lip to calm herself; she parted her feet, readying herself to dodge the inevitable charge.

The charge was much faster than she had anticipated. She dodged the attack a little too late. She landed on the ground and winced in pain; a sharp tip, whether it was the horn or simply part of the ogre's armor, had connected with her arm, slicing layers of her clothing and flesh. She held her arm tightly in an attempt to reduce the pain; blood seeped from the wound, covering her fingers. A loud thump caught her attention, as well as the sounds of crumbling rocks and grunting. She quickly scanned the area for the source and found the ogre near one of the broken ledges of the bridge, attempting to regain its composure. The stone around the ogre had been weakened from the impact of its charge meeting the ledge.

Instinctively, Merrill drew the life essences from her bloody arm and began to cast Paralyzing Hemorrhage. The spell managed to have an effect on the ogre, but she knew it would only be for a short time; ogres could not stay paralyzed for long. She quickly aimed a stone fist at the cracking ledge.

"May the Dread Wolf take you!" She released the spell, shattering the stone around the ogre's feet. The ogre remained frozen as the ground below him crumbled, and then soon disappeared. She watched in relief as the monstrous creature fell into the molten, orange sea. She sat there in silence for a moment and sighed softly.

The moment did not last long; she suddenly remembered her injured ally.

"Fenris!" Merrill jumped to her feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in her arm and the soreness in her joints, and ran towards where his body lay. She let out a loud cry when his bloody frame came into view. She knelt beside him, frightened, confused, and unsure of what to do. She was afraid to touch him, but she needed to check if he was still alive. She placed her fingers gently on the artery on his neck, closed her eyes, and counted.

It was faint.

She hadn't noticed how quiet it had gotten until she heard footsteps rushing towards her direction. She didn't raise her head to meet the eyes of her other companions.

"…Hawke," Merrill's voice was soft, low, and carried so much sadness. Tears flowed down her cheeks and dripped to the hot ground. "…I was too late."

"Maker, this cannot be happening." Hawke dropped to his knees beside Merrill. His eyes never left Fenris's mangled body.

"…He's…he's still breathing," Merrill said quietly, "…a-and he has a pulse."

"I'm afraid that's not going to last for long, Daisy." Varric attempted to keep composed, but Merrill could see that his fists were balled tightly and his posture was oddly stiff. "Sodding Elf," Varric whispered to himself and looked away from the scene.

"…This is…just like Carver." Hawke spoke those words silently.

Merrill watched Hawke from the corner of her eye. His shoulders were hunched and limp, his eyes were glazed, and he seemed to be lost in a memory. She looked away and allowed him some privacy and turned her sad gaze back to Fenris. Her attention was jolted back to Hawke when she heard his fist connecting with the hard stone ground.

"Damn it!" Hawke shouted. Tears were now streaming down his cheeks. "I knew I should not have come down here without Anders! I should have just…just…" Hawke could not finish.

His words were like a sharp, burning dagger to her heart; the amount of pain and guilt she felt was immense, because she knew that it was true. If Anders were here instead of her, this would not have happened. She couldn't heal like him, or protect, all she could do was destroy and drain the life essence of others, like a disgusting parasite. Fenris had been absolutely right. She was useless; and no matter how much she trained, studied, and researched, she could never change that.

…And then it came to her like a sudden spark.

"I think I can save him."

Hawke and Varric looked at her, puzzled by her statement.

"Daisy?"

"Merrill, what do you mean?" Hawke placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him. "You're not a healer, and blood magic cannot be used to heal." Hawke sounded as though he was trying to talk her out of some sort of delusion…and perhaps he was right to do so.

"I-I know," she glanced at Fenris once more, and then turned back to Hawke. "But I know a spell that could strengthen his body and it could sustain him long enough till we see a healer. It may even help his body repair itself!"

"Blood magic?" Hawke asked sternly.

"Yes, it's blood magic."

Hawke seemed unsure. He looked to Varric for an opinion.

"Hawke, if it means saving his life, what do we have to lose?" Varric crossed his arms and continued. "We're hours away from the surface. There's no way the Elf will last that long. I'm surprised he's even breathing now."

Hawke took in Varric's words and sighed.

"Go ahead, Merrill."

"Right," Merrill said. She relaxed her body and inhaled slowly, attempting to feel the magic flowing inside of her. She nested her hands on her lap and closed her eyes; her body was exhausted, the adrenaline she felt during battle had faded, and the pool of mana within her was completely depleted. She exhaled and opened her eyes.

This spell would require much more mana than she had.

"…Merrill, is something the matter?" Hawke asked softly. He seemed puzzled by her silent meditation.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry, Hawke," Merrill began to search her pockets as Hawke continued to watch her carefully. "I just need to drink a lyrium potion first."

"You still have that last potion?" Hawke seemed surprised.

Merrill nodded before drinking her lyrium potion.

"Merrill, I'm shocked that you managed to save that potion even when faced with an ogre," Hawke smiled weakly at her, though his face and voice remained defeated. "You're a wonderful girl, Merrill."

Merrill was perplexed by his last statement. Unsure of how to respond, she simply returned the weak smile and turned her attention to Fenris.

'_If only that were true, Hawke,' _she thought to herself.

She then scooted closer to Fenris, pulled her dagger out, and aimed her wrist above his mouth. She tried to remember the steps for this particular spell, mouthing the writings in the tome as she remembered it. She drew her dagger close to her wrist and held her breath as she was about to cut. She jumped when Hawke grabbed her wrist firmly.

"Wait," Hawke's hand remained on her wrist. He was looking down, seemingly trying to find his words. "Whatever happens, no one is to know about this," Hawke words were serious. "Especially Fenris, if he survives."

"Yes, Hawke," Merrill nodded.

Hawke released her wrist and allowed her to continue. She quickly sliced open a wound and allowed the blood to drip into Fenris's mouth. Hawke was visibly disturbed by the sight. Varric seemed indifferent. Merrill whispered unfamiliar ancient words; her blood began to glow and seemly moved on its own accord. The stray drops that had missed its target crawled up and entered Fenris's opened mouth. Fenris's body began to react. His fingers twitched, and there was a slight spasm in his limbs, his breathing could now be heard. They all watched and waited in silence till Fenris's body relaxed.

"He doesn't look any better, but he is breathing, at least." Varric stated.

"Was…was it wise to pour your blood into his mouth?" Hawke seemed to still be recovering from what he had just seen. "I mean he is unconscious. He could have chocked."

"It's ok, Hawke. The blood should find its way and fuse." Merrill sheathed her dagger, and then went to check Fenris's pulse once more.

"Merrill, please don't say stuff like that," Hawke shivered a bit. "You could not have made that sound any creepier."

"Sorry," Merrill removed her fingers from Fenris's neck. "His pulse and breathing seems to be more stable now."

"Only time will tell whether or not he'll survive," Varric crouched down and inspected Fenris. He sighed before continuing. "How do you want to do this, Hawke?"

"Maker, I don't know." Hawke pitched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm not even sure if we should even move him."

"Well, it's not like we can leave him here," Varric stated.

"I know that!" Hawke snapped. He rubbed his neck and sighed loudly. "Sorry, Varric. Look, I have some rope that I had been planning to use on one the bandits. We're going to carefully lift Fenris up and I'm going to piggyback him all the way back to Kirkwall. Use the rope and tie him to my back, I can't afford to risk him falling and making his injuries worse."

"Right," Varric seemed unsure of the plan, but he knew well that their options were quite limited.

Varric slid his hands carefully underneath Fenris's neck and thigh. Hawke handed Merrill the rope and moved to help Varric; he too slid his hands underneath Fenris, attempting to keep his body leveled, limiting as much unnecessary movement as possible, as they slowly positioned him vertically. Once Fenris was at a safe angle, Hawke quickly and steadily slipped in front of his unconscious body and pulled him onto his back, wrapping Fenris's legs around his waist.

Merrill flinched at the sight of Fenris's broken body weakly slumped onto Hawke's back.

"Merrill, the rope!"

"Oh, sorry!" Merrill rushed over, loosening the knot on the rope. Varric and her secured Fenris tightly to Hawke's back. When they had finished, they both pulled back and inspected their work.

"Ok, we're going to head back to Kirkwall. There will be no stopping. We're just going to go straight there. Varric, scout up ahead, but don't go too far. Merrill, stay beside me." Hawke began to walk towards the exit before he had even finished his orders. Varric and Merrill quickly took their positions.

Merrill watched her feet as they steadily made their way off the bridge. She felt much calmer than before; Fenris condition seemed to have stabilized though he was still far from well. There was still a high chance he may not make it all the way back to Kirkwall.

A small whimper escaped her lips.

Hawke glanced at her direction when he heard her cry. He stared helplessly at her for a brief moment, before he spoke up.

"Merrill, this isn't your fault," Hawke's words seemed so sincere. "You've done the best you could."

If only she could believe them.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

Creators give her strength.

* * *

><p>I would like to thank my beta, Hatsepsut! I've learned much! =^-^=<p> 


	4. Thin Red Line

Chapter 4: Thin Red Line

"Welcome back, Messere-"

"Bodahn, water!" Hawke did not spare the Dwarf a look; instead he quickly limped his way up to his bedroom with Fenris still tightly strapped to his back, Merrill and Varric trudging along behind him.

The Dwarf stalled, surprised by the sudden urgent request, "Y-yes, right away, Messere!"

The moment Hawke entered his bedroom he began to loosen the rope that held Fenris in place. Varric helped him carefully lay Fenris's unconscious body on the bed. Hawke wasted no time; once Fenris was safely nested he turned to head out the bedroom door.

Hawke stopped at the doorframe, pulled out one of his daggers and glanced back at his companions, "I'm going to get Anders."

"Guess I'll go too," Varric removed Bianca from his back and followed, "Wouldn't want any of Kirkwall's nightly thugs slowing you down, especially when you're limping like an old man."

"As if they could," Hawke's tone was serious, almost daring.

Both Hawke and Varric paused when they suddenly became aware of their third companion, whose presence seemed to have had dwindled during their marathon back to Kirkwall. Hawke faced Merrill.

"…Merrill?"

"I'm staying," She stated simply. "I'll watch over him while you fetch Anders."

"Right," Hawke nodded. "We'll be back as quickly as possible."

And with that, both Varric and Hawke were gone.

Merrill stared at the empty doorway before closing her eyes and sighing heavily. The journey back to Kirkwall had been long and absolutely dreadful. Yes, she was used to traveling long distances on foot; she is Dalish after all. Her clan had relocated often whenever resources became scarce or when the neighboring human villages had made it known that they were unwelcomed- but by the Dread Wolf that run had been agonizing! She remembered how heavy her breathing had become, how every sharp, shallow breath felt like a burst of small jagged shards scraping mercilessly at the walls of her lungs, and how her legs had pulsed painfully as if her calve muscles were being torn to shreds. Now, the tightness in her chest had faded, though her legs still throbbed and her joints remained unbelievably sore.

"The water, my Lady?"

Merrill jumped a bit. She hadn't heard Bodahn enter. He stood there holding a large bowl filled halfway with warm water, a small rag hung neatly off the edge.

"Ah, yes," She took the bowl from his hands, "Ma serannas."

"Is there anything else you need, my Lady?"

"Towels, perhaps?" She placed the bowl on the nightstand and gently dipped the rag into the water.

"Right away, my Lady."

Merrill turned her attention to Fenris; she rung out the excess water from the rag and began to wipe the dry blood and dirt from his face. Gently, she pushed his bangs off to the side and softly scrubbed the surface of his skin. She could hardly tell if he were alive; his breathing had become quiet, the rise and fall of his chest barely visible, and the scowl, often reserved for her…and Anders…well just about everyone really, was gone. It was quite odd. To think he had been so close to death, but now looked strangely peaceful. Varric often joked about Fenris's permanent scowl, "…even in your sleep, Elf!" he would say. She had believed him of course. Varric did seem to know a lot of things.

Merrill continued to watch his features as she began to clean his cheeks and as she slowly moved towards the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be responding. His brows twitched a bit; though, that could have been because they were not in their usual placement- knitted tightly together. That was certainly possible. His head seemed to be moving to her touch; it was odd, but a good sign. He had not moved on his own for hours, and she had worried that he may had been paralyzed from a spinal injury. It was a relief to see him moving now-

Merrill paused when she felt a tickle on her wrist; a light, wet flicker against her scarring self-inflicted wound.

She pulled back and held her wrist to her chest. Fenris's mouth was slightly ajar, the tip of his tongue retreating back into his mouth. Merrill continued to watch him. His eyes remained closed but he seemed to be searching for her. She could hear him occasionally sniff the air. Although he was unable to move much, he seemed to be becoming restless.

It was as if he needed something.

Merrill rubbed a thumb against her wound. There was no blood coming from it now, she had taken care of that sometime before they had exited the cave, though it could easily be reopened without much effort. She began to wonder if she had done enough for the spell to work properly, clearly he seemed to be responding to her in some way. Admittedly, she had not remembered much about the spell when she had performed it, which was perhaps unwise, but it had been an unusual and urgent situation; she would not had been so reckless otherwise- really! The only thing she had remembered was that the spell strengthened another with the use of the caster's own blood, which was strange in of itself; blood magic was normally incapable of such things.

Again, she rubbed her wound.

Fenris seemed to be getting more and more agitated. His breathing had become uneven and sweat began to seep from his pores. She could hear him groaning as if he were in pain, rather than simply feeling discomfort. Merrill called out to him softly, but her words went unheard.

She suddenly had an overwhelming feeling that _something_ was fading, and she just knew it had to do with her spell. She paused for a moment, debating on whether or not she should do what she believed his body was begging for. Slowly, she brought out her dagger and held her wrist above his mouth. When her hand was in proximity he began to sniff the air; he seemed to be able to sense when she was close. It made her feel a bit uneasy. She gripped her dagger tight and brought it against her old wound. She was not going to risk losing her companion, or failing Hawke and the others. If this was what his body needed, what his body asked for, then she would gladly spare her blood. This was a small sacrifice compared to the others she had made, and honestly, she would sacrifice more of herself if it were required.

This was simply her nature.

She reopened part of her wound. The blood didn't flow so freely this time; droplets fell into his mouth. His body appeared to be relaxing, remaining still as he fed on her life essence. No ancient words were needed oddly enough. It was as if her blood flowed into him as naturally as it did through her own veins.

"Nearly ten hours without treatment? Are you sure you haven't brought me to a corpse?"

Merrill quickly pulled her hand away when she heard Anders's distant voice, coupled with a series a footsteps rushing up the stairs. She sheathed her dagger and moved away from his body. The three men soon entered the bedroom.

Hawke and Varric had practically stumbled in with Anders, who looked as if he had been pulled straight out of bed; his hair was messy and out of its usual ponytail, strands fell in front of his eyes, and many accessories from his normal attire were missing. The annoyed expression on his face was replaced immediately with worry when he caught sight of Fenris lying on Hawke's bed. He swiftly made his way to his side.

"Hawke, what happened?"

"He was pummeled by an ogre," Hawke looked towards Merrill for conformation. "Right, Merrill?"

"Pummeled? That's putting it lightly," Varric chimed from a distance.

"Y-yes," Merrill nodded and brought her wounded hand closer to her chest, discreetly wiping the small amount of blood that seeped from her opened wound onto her clothing; her dress had been already stained, so the fresh coat of blood should go unnoticed.

"…and after that?" Anders asked.

"We roped him to my back and ran all the way back to Kirkwall." Hawke responded quickly.

Anders nodded slowly and, without another word, began his examination.

The room went silent with the exception of the occasional low crackle from the nearby fireplace. Hawke leaned against the far wall for support, rubbing his cramped leg. Varric was not far from Hawke, his arms were tightly crossed and he appeared to be in deep contemplation. Bodahn had entered with a few towels; he quietly placed the soft material on Hawke's desk and politely excused himself when Hawke had offered no other requests. It had only been a few minutes, but it had already begun to feel much longer. Merrill started shifting from leg to leg; the pain was reemerging.

Everyone looked towards Anders when a loud sigh was heard. Anders walked over to Hawke's desk and wiped his bloodied hands with one of the towels; he then faced Hawke.

"From what I can see: his left shoulder is dislocated, and his right arm I suspect to be fractured, bruised and possibly broken ribs, a broken collarbone that, thankfully, has not been set apart, a fever, and a head injury," Anders paused for a moment. "I fear it may be far worse than it appears on the surface…he has also lost a lot of blood."

"…So, can you heal him? Can he get better?" Hawke seemed worried.

Another long sigh escaped Anders.

"Magic can only go so far, Hawke," Anders turned away from Hawke and made his way back to Fenris's side. "I am a mage, not a miracle worker…" Anders voice trailed.

"Am I not going to get a straight answer?" Hawke asked; his question laced with frustration.

"Hawke, he shouldn't be alive," Anders met Hawke's eyes. "I've fought ogres before. Many times! I know very well how dangerous those creatures are, and I know the chances of survival when you're mauled by one." He then turned to face Merrill. "And that's why I know she did something."

Merrill froze.

"Who? Me? No! I-I haven't done anything!" She panicked. Creators she was a terrible liar!

Varric let out a low sigh, "Well so much for that secret," he whispered to Hawke.

Anders took a step towards her, "You think I'm a fool? I felt…_it_…the moment I walked into the room."

Hawke rubbed the back of his neck, "Damn, no use in hiding it anymore."

"You knew?"

"Yes, I knew."

"She used blood magic on him and you allowed it?" Anders looked absolutely astonished by what he heard.

"We had no choice, Anders! You had said it yourself, 'he should be dead'. If it were not for Merrill he would not had made it back to Kirkwall." Hawke defended her. "If there had been any other way, Anders, we would have done it."

Anders clenched his jaw.

"Hawke, I'd expected better of you. For all we know, she could have had him possessed-"

"I would never!" Merrill interrupted. She was insulted that he would suggest such a thing!

Hawke's face fell, "…You don't sense a demon, right?"

"Hawke!" Merrill shouted. Creators, why does everyone think so lowly of her! She had come to expect this from Anders- but Hawke? She could not believe that he would ever think that she was capable of doing something so awful.

Hawke met her eyes, "I just need to be sure, Merrill," was his reply.

"No, I don't sense anything like that," Anders placed a hand to his chin. "This feels…different. I don't think I had ever felt anything like this before." Anders paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "I don't sense an entity…instead it is as if I'm standing between some sort of moving energy. It's not very large…more like a thin path. It's hard to explain."

Hawke raised an eyebrow.

"Have you used this spell before?" Anders asked Merrill.

"…no," Merrill twiddled her fingers and starred at her feet. "I've learned it recently."

"Well that's reassuring." Anders rolled his eyes.

And then there was an uncomfortable silence.

Merrill continued to stare at her feet, attempting to distract herself. Her feet were nearly entirely covered with blood and dirt; the carpet below had stained, leaving a faint trail from the doorway. She should remember to apologies to Hawke and offer to clean up her mess later. Much later, because as of now she didn't have the courage to face any of her companions, and apparently neither did they. The room had remained awfully quiet. She didn't have to look up to know everyone had been lost in thought, similar to her. Well, maybe not similar to her. She suspected that, unlike her, their thoughts were focused on Fenris and the spell she had used; thoughts she would rather not have now.

Merrill sighed softly.

That entire conversation had been tiring and she had already felt exhausted even before the men had entered the bedroom. She was so mentally and physically drained that standing was becoming troublesome.

"We can't tell Fenris, Anders," Hawke spoke suddenly.

"I'd thought as much," Anders crossed his arms. "Whatever comes from this, you're responsible, Hawke." Hawke nodded. "Well then, I'll start healing."

Anders slowly held out Fenris's left arm, "Hawke, I need your help."

"Of course," Hawke walked over towards Anders.

"I'm going to relocate his shoulder. I need you to pull his ribcage away from me as I do so." When Hawke was ready, Anders began to pull Fenris's arm, gently and steadily positioning it to allow the joint to slip back into place.

Merrill watched the two men in silence despite her heavy eyelids. Exhaustion was taking over; the world around her started to feel like a daze. So much so, that she had barely felt the light pat on her back.

"Come on, Daisy," Varric said sweetly.

She nodded and allowed Varric to lead her towards the chair by Hawke's desk. The moment she sat down, a yawn escaped her.

"Don't fall asleep yet, Daisy."

Merrill yawned again, "I'll try, Varric."

"Alright, everyone needs to drink a glass of water and eat something before going to bed; your body's needs to be nourished and hydrated," Anders said as he carefully massaged Fenris's shoulders. "Hawke, I don't have any of my supplies with me. Do you have anything I could use as a sling and a binder? Also, do you have something to disinfect everyone's surface wounds?"

"I believe so," Hawke limped his way towards his bedroom door. "I'll have Bodahn bring up some bread and water…and I think we may also have some figs left."

"I'll have a look at that leg when you get back."

"It's just a cramp, Anders."

"Hawke," Anders said sternly,

"Alright, fine. Just remember to keep your hands where I can see them during your little examination." Anders rolled his eyes as Hawke left the room.

Merrill could barely keep her head up.

* * *

><p>Time had escaped her.<p>

She had become completely unaware of the minutes passing between the moments when her eyes were opened and when they were closed. Once when she had opened them, she had spotted a small plate of food and a tall glass of water in front of her. She had heard a soft, inaudible whisper and had felt a hand on her shoulder.

This time, she awoke to find Anders quietly disinfecting the wounds on her arms and legs as she sat resting. The plate and glass that had been placed in front of her were now both empty; the sweet taste of figs still lingered on her tongue.

Her eyes lazily fell shut one last time and she entered the Fade.

* * *

><p>Ma serannas - Thank You<p>

AN: This is unbeta-ed so please tell me if you spot any errors. Also if you happen to know a good beta, please send me a message. I REALLY do need one, especially for future chapters. I've reread this chapter around 10 times, and I was STILL finding simple, stupid mistakes.


	5. Rest

Blood Bonds

_Merrill learns that blood magic can never truly save a life at the brink of death. There are always sacrifices and consequences._

Chapter 5: Rest

It has been nearly two days since that dreadful journey into the Deep Roads. Two days after their battle with the darkspawn, and Fenris had yet to regain consciousness. Not that anyone had truly expected him to do so. Fenris simply laid still amidst the dark red sheets that softly caressed his form. It was midday, but it was difficult to tell from within the bedroom. Natural light had been blocked by thick curtains, leaving the fireplace as the only source of illumination. Merrill watched as the warm, orange glow danced across Fenris's features.

There they stood, circled around Hawke's bed, silently watching as Anders examined Fenris for the second time of that day. Merrill suspected that this would be Anders's new routine; him traveling to Hawke's estate to check on Fenris's condition morning, noon, and night, making his way back to Darktown every time. Hawke had offered to transfer Fenris over to his clinic, but Anders hadn't thought it wise to move Fenris so soon.

'_Speaking of Hawke,'_ Merrill glanced at her peers, who also watched Anders and Fenris quietly. Hawke stood by her, arms crossed, watching the scene solemnly. Sebastian was not far; he prayed silently to himself, mouthing chants she was unfamiliar with.

Sebastian had first shown up sometime before she had woken up from her spot at Hawke's desk. She remembered waking up embarrassed, terribly sore, and rather sticky, from both the disinfectant and the dry sweat that had lingered on her skin overnight. She had peered through heavy lids and had found Hawke, Anders, Aveline, and Sebastian talking over Fenris's body. Although they all had looked concerned over Fenris's wellbeing, Aveline had appeared to have a look of incredible guilt more than anything else. It was clear that Aveline must have had believed this to have been all her fault. A familiar feeling Merrill knew all too well, both in the past and in recent events. The sight of Aveline's guilt stricken face, a face she had never been truly acquainted with until now, was downright painful. The sharp twinge in her chest had continued even when she had turned her gaze away. To have had seen someone she viewed to be strong look so defeated, a woman, despite their many differences, she did admire in more ways than one. Aveline had no reason to feel guilty. She on the other hand-

"…Blessed Andraste, guide us through these dark hours…"

Merrill broke from her memory when Sebastian's prayer suddenly became audible. His eyes closed and his hands firmly clasped together, he continued to whisper his chant.

He seemed to be finishing up.

After his final words, he raised his head and faced Hawke, who in turn met his eyes.

"Hawke, I should be heading back to Grand Cleric Elthina now," Sebastian placed a strong hand on his shoulder, "Know that you and Fenris will be in my prayers."

Hawke nodded, "Thank you, Sebastian." He looked away from Sebastian shyly. "You shouldn't have to trouble yourself, coming down here…away from your duties…"

Sebastian smiled sweetly. "I'm sure the Maker will understand," Sebastian removed his hand. "May the Maker lend you strength, Hawke."

And with that, he was gone.

Merrill watched as Hawke stared at the ground in deep thought. Hawke had never struck her as much of a believer. She had never cared enough to ask, nor would she have thought it her place to do so even if she had. He certainly was not as devout as Sebastian. At least, she didn't think he was. Either way, he seemed to be receiving some sort of solace by having Sebastian pray.

Strangely enough, it had been Hawke who had asked Sebastian to pray rather than Sebastian offering, though she was sure that Hawke hadn't needed to ask. More than likely, that had been Sebastian's intention the moment he had stepped into Hawke's home. Still, the look on Sebastian's face when Hawke had pulled him aside and requested him to pray….it had appeared Sebastian had thought the same as her on the question of Hawke's faith.

"Well, he does seem to be getting better," Anders brushed his sweaty hands on his clothing. "Alarmingly so, I might add."

Hawke perked up when he heard Anders. He smiled. That was the first positive thing Anders has said about Fenris' condition. Though, the last part of Anders' statement puzzled him.

"Alarmingly so?" Hawke repeated.

Anders gave both Hawke and Merrill a knowing look. Merrill rubbed her arms timidly. Hawke understood the silent message.

"You're making his recovery sound bad! It's a good thing he is getting better, is it not?"

"Hawke," Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. "Don't you think it would be a little suspicious if he is suddenly healed within days? Especially considering what he has gone through." Anders gestured towards Fenris. "At the rate he is healing, he might actually wake up before the end of this week. Days ago, he looked like death!"

"I'll just tell everyone what a magnificent healer you are," Hawke smiled. Anders sighed loudly in annoyance once again. It seemed to be becoming a habit. "Honestly Anders, I think you're getting worried over nothing. Everyone will just be glad that Fenris is alive and breathing."

"For your sake, I hope you're right." Anders began to gather his things. "I'm heading back to Darktown now. Should you need me, you know where to look," Anders paused for a moment. "Remember to turn him over every two hours or so, carefully."

"Of course, Anders."

Merrill watched as Anders gathered his remaining tools…then she felt it. Her vision blurred slightly and she braced herself against Hawke's wooden bed canopy. She was getting tired again. Now was probably a good time to speak to Hawke about what she had been considering. Hawke and Anders' conversation seemed to have ended, and Anders was just about to head out the door. It was probably best to just spit it out now and not wait any longer. She could only keep herself up for perhaps a few more minutes.

"Hawke," The two men focused on Merrill. "I've been thinking…" She paused for a moment, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. _'Perhaps this was just a stupid idea.'_

"Go ahead, Merrill," Hawke coaxed her to go on.

"Well, I know that you are still quite busy and may need to step out at times, like to the store, or the Hangman, or to talk to people, or to go on some grand adventure, or-"

"Right," Hawke politely urged her to get to the point. Anders rolled his eyes.

"So I thought maybe, since I've been staying here overnight anyway, that it would be better if I continued to stay and help… until, at the very least, Fenris wakes up…" She stopped fidgeting and peered up at Hawke shyly. He seemed surprised, but also looked as though he was giving her offer some thought.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Hawke," Anders stated simply. Merrill visibly winced. _'Of course it was a stupid idea.'_

"Actually, Anders, I think that's a fine idea." Hawke sent a smile towards her and then Anders, who in turn, huffed and made his way towards the door.

"Well then, if that is what you think-"

"It is."

"…Right, then I'll be back later tonight." Anders disappeared without another word.

Merrill stared at the bedroom door awkwardly, turning to face Hawke when she heard a long, low sigh.

"I'm sure Anders meant well," Hawke offered.

Merrill wasn't completely sure how to respond to that. For one, she didn't believe that Anders had meant well at all- in any of the statements he has ever made regarding her. He, like Fenris, seemed to gain some sort of satisfaction in openly criticizing her, even on things unrelated to her being a blood mage. And while, at this point, she ignored the majority of their often cruel statements, there were times, particularly when she was already in an emotional state, when her cheeks and ears would redden and burn from embarrassment and frustration- much like a moment ago.

"…Probably," was all she could think to say.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Neither of them attempted to move or make eye contact. Merrill half expected for Hawke to make a joke to break this silence, and then wander off somewhere. She hoped for it. Her legs were starting to wobble.

"Merrill," Hawke spoke softly. "You shouldn't feel that this is your fault."

She couldn't say she was surprised by his sudden statement, though she was still was unsure of how exactly to respond. This was a conversation she really did not want to have. For the past couple of days, she had been having trouble controlling and even understanding some of the emotions she had been feeling. Talking about her feelings with Hawke didn't seem like it would be beneficial, at least not right now anyway. She would just end up embarrassing herself, somehow.

"Hawke, please…"

"Seriously, Merrill," Hawke stepped closer, shortening the distance between them. "You feel that you are responsible for what happened to Fenris. That is why you are offering to stay and help, right?" It seemed like less of a question and more of a statement.

Hawke was not wrong, but- "There is more to it than just that," Merrill whispered. The words escaped her before she could catch them. Hawke appeared to have heard her, despite how low she had kept her voice. He seemed confused about what she had just said, and unsure if he should even respond to it. Though the look on Merrill's face made it clear that whatever questions he thought to ask, would get no answers. Understanding that, Hawke continued as if she hadn't spoken at all.

"Merrill, we all knew the risks when we entered that cave, and when we entered the Deep Roads-"

"I should not have gotten distracted!" Merrill's voice cracked a bit. She felt her face heating up and her vision clouding. Did they really need to talk about this now? "Maybe I could have seen the Ogre sooner and could have warned-"

"Merrill," Hawke's voice was stern. "You did more than enough. Believe it or not, you saved Fenris' life twice. I've seen what ogres do once they have their victim. They literally crush every ounce of life out of them, and I have no doubts that would have happened to Fenris if you had not been there to fight."

Merrill listened intently.

"And even after, when he laid there broken, you gave him a second chance. We all know that he would have never made it out of the Deep Roads alive if it were not for you. I'm no mage, but even I could see that Fenris was beyond what basic healing spells could fix. Whatever you did saved him, Merrill."

For a moment, the humming and the occasional low crackle from the fireplace were the only sounds within the otherwise silent room.

"Merrill?"

"Thank you, Hawke." For the first time in days, Merrill smiled. Pain remained behind it, but it was a smile none the less.

"You're welcome, Merrill."

Merrill moved to sit on the chair beside Hawke's bed. It was a relief to be off her feet. The sudden urge to sleep threatened to overtake her, but she could not fall asleep just yet. She placed a hand Fenris' arm, bound by cloth and a sling. She had nearly forgotten that Fenris was still in the room. She watched him silently for a moment. "I'm going to change his bandages now."

"Right," Hawke nodded. "I'll tell Bodahn that you'll be staying with us longer," Hawke paused for a moment. "I'm honestly glad you offered to help, Merrill. I would have made a terrible nurse."

"Oh, I'm sure you would have been fine."

"You have much too much faith in my nursing abilities."

Merrill laughed lightly. Oh, she really did miss this.

"I'll bring up a couple rags and some water."

"Thank you, Hawke" Merrill began carefully loosening the bandages on Fenris' arm.

"I'll be back soon with everything," Hawke said before exiting the bedroom. Merrill continued to unwrap Fenris' bandages. They were already stained with pus and sweat.

She had forgotten how well spoken Hawke could be at times, and she was glad that he had pushed her to talk and to listen. Hawke's words had actually made her feel a bit better…

…Ignoring of course _that_ small hiccup.

"_There is more to it than just that."_

Merrill's lips thinned. How could she have had let that slip? Hawke had looked as if he was going to press for an explanation, but he hadn't, and she had been relieved. Hawke may be lenient than most on the use of magic -including some blood magic spells- but he did appear to still have some level of discomfort when it came to the details; talk of spirits, demons, and even the effects of some spells didn't put him at ease. Normally he wasn't interested in those details. In fact, the only detail he needed, or wanted, was whether or not the spell was useful.

As the days went on, after their journey from the Deep Roads, her suspicions had grown. She had been feeling weak, despite being treated by Anders, having full meals, and having a good night's rest at Hawke's home. At the time, she had simply chalked her exhaustion up to stress. She didn't think her frequent and sudden moments of weakness were that unusual, especially considering the events that had occurred not too long ago. However, there were periods in the day when she could barely stand on her own without the assistance of a nearby shelf or wall. And it was happening more and more often. That was not normal, and that did concern her a bit, though not enough to speak up about. It was not until she had found herself hunched over Hawke's desk, barely able to keep her head up, that she remembered the night Anders had revealed that he had been aware that she had cast a spell on Fenris, and had described what he had felt.

It wasn't necessarily her guilt, or her inability to walk even small distances without falling over herself, that kept her at Hawke's estate. Though, those details were certainly a part of it. No. There was much more to it than that.

Fenris was feeding on more than just her blood.

Therefore, she absolutely could_ not_ leave his side.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the super late chapter. I would like to say I've been enjoying the summer, but that wouldn't be entirely true. More like, I've been babysitting a four month old and a one year old, five days a week, from eight in the morning to five in the afternoon, for over a month. No pay. Kids can really wear you down. The minute they leave, I am in my bed, out for the count. Then next thing you know, I'm waking up at eight making bottles and changing diapers.

I think I've experienced enough of motherhood already, without being an actual mother.

Anyway, this is unbeta-ed, so just tell me if you see any mistakes and I'll correct them as soon as I see your message.

There isn't much going on in this chapter. I had actually planned on Fenris waking up near the end of this chapter, but then I decided to just split the chapter into two. I didn't want to wait any longer, and having another scene would have defiantly increased the time I would have posted up this chapter. And I really did not want to do that.


	6. Awaken

Blood Bonds

_Merrill learns that blood magic can never truly save a life at the brink of death. There are always sacrifices and consequences._

Chapter 6: Awaken

"Where is Hawke?"

Merrill lost hold of the towels and fresh bandages she had been bringing into Hawke's bedroom. The supplies hit the carpeted floor with a low thud; rolls of bandages scattered about, bumping against her blistered toes, and then eventually slipping underneath the skirt of the bed. There she stood, wide eyed and mouth agape, staring at the Elf who less than an hour ago had been just as unconscious as the night he had been hauled into Hawke's home. Now he was sitting up on his own with seemly little effort, casually scratching at his bandaged arm, patiently awaiting an answer to his question.

"I-I'm sorry?" She had heard him, of course. His voice had been just as loud and as clear as it had been before the incident, which actually surprised her quite a bit, but despite that, that silly question was all she could muster to say. Creators, help her.

"Hawke," he repeated. "Where is he?"

"Right," The initial shock had worn off. "He's downstairs about to leave. Fenris, I cannot believe you're awake so soon! Are you in any pain? Do you feel-"

"Go get him." Fenris ended their short conversation there; turning his gaze to the open window.

Merrill was taken aback by his quick dismissal of her. She mentally slapped herself. It shouldn't have been so surprising and she should really know better by now. "…Of course, I'll be back soon."

Fenris made no indication as to whether or not he had heard her. He simply continued to stare out window, viewing what can only be the High Town gardens off in the distance.

Merrill turned away and rushed down the main stairs, hoping to catch Hawke before he left for the markets. The soreness in her feet returned; her bare feet heavily met the stone titled floors that covered most of the halls in Hawke's estate. The carpet in the bedroom had felt much nicer under her tender feet. She hoped her running would be worth it, and that Hawke, indeed, had not left.

Merrill was glad to see that Hawke hadn't even managed to get his boots on, despite his early announcement that he had been heading out to make some purchases. Instead, he sat on the bench in the foyer, barefoot, with one boot in hand and the other at his side. For once, his procrastination was a small blessing. She was positive that Fenris would have gone looking for Hawke against her protest, and she was sure she would have not been able to prevent him from doing so on her own. More than likely, she would have ended up with some sort of injury if she stood in his way, and that was certainly something she would like to avoid.

Though, truly she couldn't fault Fenris entirely if that were to happen. Merrill could imagine that he must be quite confused at the moment, waking up in someone else's home and all, covered in various medical creams and thin cotton wraps. She understood his need for answers from a source he trusts.

"Hawke!" Merrill shouted with urgency.

The tone of her voice caught Hawke's attention immediately. "Merrill? What's wrong?"

"Fenris is awake!"

"He's what?!" Hawke shot up from the bench, letting the boot he had been holding drop to the floor.

Before Merrill could repeat herself, Hawke had already ran past her and was heading towards his bedroom. She sighed and followed with just as much haste.

By the Dread Wolf, this running was already causing the pain to return to the middle of her foot and her heel! Once this excitement dies down, into a nice warm bucket of water her feet will go.

Hawke looked quite similar to how she had not too long ago; both eyes and mouth open, almost comically, stunned by Fenris' sudden awakening. Slowly his expression turned into a large smile. "By the Maker, it's true! Fenris, you're awake! I cannot believe it!"

"So I've been told. Twice now," Fenris spoke, casually.

"What? You think you're trapped in the Fade?" Hawke laughed.

"Hardly," Fenris smiled. "…Though, I can't seem to remember much…before… I was attacked." Fenris looked as though he was struggling to put more than just words together. He was searching within himself, attempting to stitch together the last of his memories. Merrill didn't know much about Fenris' past, other than what he had openly spoken about within their group, but this appeared to be disturbingly familiar territory for him. Hawke had also taken notice. By the look of his eyes, caution seemed to be taking priority.

"That's understandable," Hawke chose his words carefully, taking the short and direct approach.

"How long was I unconscious?" Fenris asked.

"About a week and a half," Hawke answered honestly.

"…I see," Fenris stared down at his lap, unsure of what to make of all this.

Hawke's face grimaced. "You alright? I know this is a bit shocking, perhaps it's better if you lie back down and rest," he offered.

"Perhaps," Fenris rubbed his arm in comforting fashion, his mind elsewhere, still searching for pieces within his already shattered memories. His action loosened the sweat stained bandages, exposing part of his bare arm that had been often hidden by armor, and the continuation of his lyrium markings.

His movement had caught Merrill's attention and the sun's reflection against the decorative, ivory minerals etched into his flesh kept it. It was a beautiful sight, one she hadn't often gotten to see until recently. There was such a difference in appearance within natural light. The sunlight enhanced the sharp contrast between the lyrium and the dark skin beside it….and that's when she noticed something else.

It was odd.

He's skin looked clean, smooth, and, possibly strangest of all, _new_. She could have sworn that underneath his clothing and bandages that Fenris' skin had been covered, almost entirely, with faded scars; evidence of years of abuse and past battles. Not to mention, the deep, long gashes he had received from rusted blades during their confrontation with the darkspawn, which had remained visible despite being sewn shut and partially healed….at least, a couple hours ago they had been visible.

Merrill shook her head, attempting to somehow jar the memories of what she had seen not too long ago.

She could not be mistaken about this. His scars were certainly something she had taken notice of when they had first removed his armor, and every time she had changed his clothing and bandages after. She remembered tracing her fingertips over them sadly, knowing that every mark had hardened him further, turning him into the reclusive warrior she now knows…but, perhaps she was wrong. Maybe her eyes were simply playing tricks on her. The sunlight coming from the window did give his tan skin an awfully nice glow.

"…Though, I must say, I feel fine. It feels as if I've just woken up from a good long rest," Fenris continued.

"That is because you did, Fenris."

"Hmph, I suppose you're right," Fenris smiled.

"You suppose correctly," Hawke smiled back.

* * *

><p>"Nice to see you've finally made an appearance, Varric," Hawke loudly announced Varric's presence to the entire room.<p>

All eyes were on the dwarf standing in front of the doorway. Varric merely shrugged and continued to make his way into the room, stopping just short of the bed where Fenris was being tended to by Anders. Hawke crossed his arms and leaned against his bed post, waiting for a response.

"Dwarves aren't built for long distance travel. Just…remember that for next time."

"See, I would have accepted that excuse a week ago. Maker knows I couldn't even piss standing for days after that run." Merrill laughed behind her hand at that, letting the stray, dirty bandages she had been collecting slip onto her lap. Anders snorted and continued to remove the material that had been covering Fenris' once infected wounds.

"Honest answer? I couldn't bear to see the elf like that."

"I appreciate your concern, Varric," Fenris interjected.

"The look doesn't suit you, Elf. You looked almost pleasant without your scowl," Varric teased. "…and it looks like I may owe Rivaini a couple of sovereigns for that one. If she asks, just tell her broody here still holds the championship for best scowl, even while incapacitated."

Hawke held up a hand as an oath. "You have my word, Varric. Isabela has won enough sovereign from us all."

"Do you need any help, Anders?" Merrill offered; placing the material she had been collecting aside.

Anders had looked as if he was going to say 'no', but he paused, reconsidering her offer. "…Actually, this may go a lot quicker if you could help me remove the rest of these bandages."

"Right, do I use the little knife or-"

"No!" Fenris suddenly shouted. Hawke chuckled at Fenris' outburst, especially since his voice seemed to have had carried legitimate fear at the notion of Merrill using a scalpel near him.

"It's probably better if you just use your hands, Daisy."

"Agreed," Anders said, poorly attempting to hide his smirk.

"All right, then, I'll just use my nails if I have to." Merrill said cheerfully.

She sat beside Fenris, slipping her fingers between the bindings and his flesh, pulling the material loose. Anders was on the other side doing much the same, carefully slicing and removing the thick threads that had held Fenris' wounds shut. Fenris groaned uncomfortably as he was being pulled from both sides.

"Are you ok, Fenris? You look a bit cross," Merrill politely asked.

"The joys of awakening to mages surrounding me," Fenris' words were drenched with sarcasm, more so than usual. If it were a liquid, it could easily fill a fountain.

"A nightmare, isn't it?" Anders pulled the last of the bandages more forceful than necessary.

"An annoyance, more like," Fenris said, unfazed by the rough gesture. He then slipped the oversized white top that he had woken up in back on, covering his naked torso.

Hawke roared with laughter, "Maker! It is as if nothing had happened at all."

"Just like the good old days, aye, Hawke?"

"No kidding! All that's needed are a few dozen bandits dropping from seemly nowhere and attacking us."

"Careful, Hawke, that could still happen."

"Sadly, I wouldn't be surprised if it did."

Merrill laughed alongside Hawke as she gathered the mess that had been made into a neat pile, preparing to carry it out to be either washed or disposed of. She wasn't looking forward to the march up and down the stairs. She had been doing that for nearly the entire day! Hawke's stairs were simply much too long to climb over and over. It would be nice to be seated for once, like she had been when she was helping to remove Fenris' bandages. Hawke's bed had been wonderfully cozy. Nothing like her straw filled sack she had called a bed back at the Alienage.

"You're in pain."

"…What?" Merrill hadn't realized that Fenris had been referring to her at first. When she had turned to face him, he had not been looking up at her from where he sat. Indeed, he was looking at her direction, but his eyes were cast down towards the ground.

"Your feet," Fenris said plainly.

Merrill followed his gaze and saw her feet: her poor, uncovered, swollen, blistered feet.

"It's…it's not as bad as it looks, really! See!" Merrill wiggled her toes as to prove her point, but it only managed to make herself wince. One of the blisters had opened without her knowledge. The sensitive exposed skin had been rubbing against the flesh of her toes, irritating it further.

Anders had been eavesdropping, watching as her demonstration of how little pain she was in failed. "Have you been using that cream I gave you, at all?"

"Yes!" Merrill bit her lip and glanced away from Anders. His eyes were quite judgmental. "…Ok, fine. I'll admit it. I haven't been using it as much as I should have."

"You really need to start using it! Your feet won't heal properly if you continue to miss your treatment," Anders reprimanded. "Honestly! You would have been healed days ago if you had kept off you feet and did what you were supposed to."

"I know, I know! I've just been a bit distracted with Fenris being how he was-"

"I didn't ask for your help," Fenris said sharply.

"No, what I meant was…" Merrill stopped mid sentence and sighed softly. This wasn't going anywhere pleasant. "...sorry," she apologized. "I'll apply it soon."

Anders pulled a familiar container from his pocket and held it out towards her. It was a small wooden box, similar to the one she had received before from him about a week ago, filled with crushed healing herbs. "You'll apply it now."

"I'll take the trash downstairs, Merrill. You can go have a seat by the window and take care of yourself," Hawke gently removed the material she held; allowing her to freely accept the medicine Anders offered her.

"…Thank you, Hawke," Merrill opened the container and walked towards her seat.

"No problem," Hawke smiled.

"I'll walk downstairs with you," Anders stood behind Hawke. "I should be leaving now anyway. I'm sure there is a line of patients waiting for me back at the clinic."

"Anyone else would like me to escort them out?" Hawke volunteered.

Varric stepped forward. "Sorry to have to cut this visit short, Elf. You know how it is."

"I'm not sure that I do."

"Hey, don't be like that. I'll buy you a drink once you're at The Hanged Man."

"I'll hold you to that," Fenris smiled.

Merrill watched as the three men left the room. She sighed softly to herself and dipped the tips of her fingers into the green, thick, creamy substance and gently applied it on her sores. The medicine coating her foot cooled her skin instantly. It felt marvelous. The crushed elfroot was taking effect, slowly closing her broken skin.

"He's right, you know," Fenris spoke suddenly.

Merrill had been preoccupied with treating her feet that she not been aware of Fenris' presence. "About what?" she asked.

"Taking better care of yourself. As much as it pains me to say, he is right on that." Ah, Fenris was referring to Anders. "Your discomfort is… distracting."

"Distracting?" Merrill wasn't really sure she understood what he meant by that. She hadn't been vocalizing her affliction and she was sure she hadn't been hopping around, foot to foot, like an injured rabbit either.

"Was it not obvious?" Fenris raised an eyebrow.

Merrill couldn't tell if that were rhetorical or not. The conversation was getting confusing, and it couldn't only be her. Fenris was beginning to look just unsure as she did.

They stared quizzically at one another.

"Well, would you look at that! Hawke was serious after all," came a familiar voice.

Merrill instantly brightened at the sound of the pirate. "Isabela!" she beamed. "I didn't even hear you come in! It's been so long!"

"It hasn't been that long, Kitten." Isabela waltzed further into the room, approaching the bed where Fenris sat. She appeared to be studying him. "You look so much better than I had imagined."

"You were expecting something else?" Fenris questioned.

"By the way Varric had described you days ago, I was expecting a bag of limbs with pointy ears." Isabela bent down for closer inspection. "You've certainly turned up the smolder."

Did Isabela see it, too? ...So perhaps her mind hadn't been playing tricks on her.

Merrill gulped.

Maybe…maybe it's nothing! Fenris has always been rather handsome. This is probably just one of his better days…probably. Merrill bit her lip.

"I…haven't had the chance to see myself," Fenris attempted to hide his blush.

"And he blushes! Adorable!" Isabela laughed loudly. "I must say, that beauty rest of yours has done wonders. I'm a little jealous." Isabela placed both hands on her hips and drew closer to him. "And you look freshly washed. Have you've been getting a proper sponge bath?"

"Are you offering your service?" Fenris smiled.

Isabela giggled as she stood straight up once more. "For a smoldering Elf? ... Maybe."

"What are we talking about here?" Hawke had returned. He leaned against the door frame, grin firmly planted on his face. Merrill suspected that Hawke knew very well what they had been talking about. Or at least had a very good idea of what had been said. Isabela was in the room after all.

"Sponge baths. Your doing, I presume?"

Hawke chuckled. "Washing Fenris? No." He hitched a thumb at Merrill's direction. "I left that task to Merrill."

Merrill felt slightly embarrassed when all eyes fell on her. Washing Fenris wasn't something she should be embarrassed about. It was task that needed to be done, and one that she had offered to do herself. Still, she didn't feel comfortable talking about it with Fenris only a few feet away. She liked her limbs where they were, thank you very much! She did her best not to glance at Fenris' direction, though, from the corner of her eye she could have sworn that Fenris' brow had twitched. In fact, she was certain of it. The low disgusted groan he had made under his breath confirmed her suspicions.

"It's nothing to be ashamed about, Fenris." Merrill offered weakly.

"Speak for yourself," Fenris massaged his temple, trying to keep down the bright color that had been creeping slowly onto his face.

"Interesting," Isabela noted, curiously.

Hawke spoke directly to Fenris now. "She was rather good at it. Couldn't smell that you'd pissed yourself anymore."

"He's exaggerating." Merrill smiled at Fenris awkwardly. Fenris paid no attention to her. His cheeks and ears had turned a deep shade of red, either from anger or embarrassment. She hoped that latter. That seemed safer.

"Not at all! You turned this dirty, city, mongrel Elf into a Dalish flower… or at least made him smell like one. I have to say, I am rather jealous; walking in and seeing Fenris leaning sloppily against your side as you hummed a lovely tune, whilst washing his lowers-"

"Are you just about finished?" Fenris spat.

Hawke ignored him and continued. "If I am ever in a need of a nurse, Merrill, you would be my first, and perhaps, only choice."

"What? You wouldn't even consider me as a nurse?" Isabela playfully teased.

"Somehow I think I would end up in more pain, Isabela."

"The good kind," Isabela winked.

"If you two are about done," Fenris stood up from the bed.

"Spoilsport," Isabela pouted.

"Well done, Fenris. I was about to ask Isabela to explain what she meant, and in graphic detail!" Hawke joined Isabela in pouting.

"I'm sure she would be more than willing to indulge you soon enough, but for now I would like to head home." Fenris began to pull the white shirt he had borrowed over his head. "My armor?"

Merrill hopped to her feet, face and ears still beet red from the conversation earlier. "I'll go get it," she announced before swiftly leaving the room.

"As much as it pains me, I must be going too," Isabela eyed Fenris once more. She sighed. "…Just when things were getting interesting." She left as quickly as she came.

Hawke laughed at her dramatics, and then faced the only other person in the room. "Fenris, are you sure you want to leave so soon? You woke not too long ago."

"I've intruded upon your home and hospitality enough."

"Not at all, your unconscious body accented the drapery nicely. I'd say we're even."

Fenris chuckled lowly, and then stopped abruptly as if something had just crossed him. He hummed in thought. Hawke lifted an eyebrow and watched curiously.

"We haven't spoken about what happened," Fenris spoke softly.

"You're right, we haven't," Hawke rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "Are you sure it's something you want to remember?"

"I… can't say for certain."

"Well, why don't we start here? What _do_ you remember?"

Fenris squinted. Silently, he sifted through his memories. "We were fighting darkspawn…and we were overwhelmed…and…" His fists balled and he stopped.

"…and?" Hawke asked.

"And…that is it," Fenris peered up at Hawke, eyes pleading for answers.

Hawke sighed in relief. He thanked the Maker that was all Fenris could remember. "You were on the right path; though you forgot about the part where you were attacked by an ogre."

"An ogre?" Fenris' eyes grew wide.

"It knocked you out before you had the chance to see it apparently." Hawke looked down at Fenris seriously. "You're really lucky, you know. Varric and I had been preoccupied with the other darkspawn, we hadn't noticed what had happened until it had been too late. By the time we got to you and Merrill, Merrill had already taken care of the ogre and you were already down."

Fenris was no longer looking at Hawke. He eyes were cast down as he absorbed what he was being told. Whatever he had been feeling, was not evident on his face.

Hawke rubbed his neck once more. "Believe or not, Merrill is the only reason you're alive now. Maker knows, Varric and I would have had never made it in time to help you. And after…" Hawke stopped himself. He shouldn't reveal too much lest Fenris becomes suspicious. "She was really worried about you. All of us were. We weren't sure if you would survive or not."

Fenris didn't respond. He simply stood there, arms crossed and eyes closed. Hawke eyed him carefully.

Finally, Fenris dropped his arms to the side and exhaled, eyes focused on Hawke. "Somehow…somehow, I think I-"

"I have your armor, Fenris."

Both Hawke and Fenris jumped at Merrill's sudden appearance. Both turned to look at the young Dalish woman, timidly carrying Fenris' neatly folded clothing and steel gauntlets in her arms. Merrill glanced from one to the other, unsure of what to make of the increasing silence. Then it had finally hit her.

"I'm sorry! Am I interrupting something private? Wait, don't answer! If it is something private then I shouldn't ask. I'll just go now."

Before Merrill could turn to leave, Fenris placed a hand on top of the clothing she had been holding. "I'll be taking my armor."

"…yes…sorry about that." Merrill transferred his belonging over.

Fenris cleared his throat uncomfortably, "…and thank you for…" _for saving me?_ "…my armor," Fenris finished lamely.

Merrill froze. Stunned from what she had just heard. Had Fenris thanked her? Truly? "… Oh… you're welcome, Fenris." Silenced passed between them once more. "…Well, I should start gathering my things and head back home."

"Are you leaving too, Merrill? I'm going to be so lonely now!"

"Oh, don't be sad, Hawke. I'll visit you. I promise!"

"I certainly hope so. These plants will wilt if you're not around."

"Then I'll be back to water them."

And with that, she left.

Hawke then faced Fenris, who had just finished dressing into his normal attire. Maker, that man was bloody fast! He remembered that their conversation hadn't quite ended. "What were you going to say, Fenris? Before Merrill arrived."

"That I think I already knew."

"Already knew, what?"

"That I owe her my life."

* * *

><p>AN: I honestly have to thank those who have messaged me recently. This chapter would not have been posted, at all, if it hadn't been for the lovely encouragement I had received a couple of days ago.<p>

I've kind of been down lately. And I didn't think there were many who were actually reading and/or enjoying my story, so I had kind of put this on the back burner (which could have lasted a couple of months). Thanks again to those who pushed me to continue! ^_^

As before, this is unbeta-ed so tell me in a review or message if you see any mistakes. I'll fix it as soon as I can. Hopefully, there aren't that many. I've reread this chapter at least six times!


	7. The Command

Blood Bonds

_Merrill learns that blood magic can never truly save a life at the brink of death. There are always sacrifices and consequences._

Chapter 7: The Command

She really hated coming here. Truly, she did: The crime, the poverty, and the helpless pitiful faces; The Undercity was absolutely abysmal. A dumping ground for waste, fecal and human alike. She hadn't thought there had been any place worse than the Alienage; though most humans may argue otherwise (which just furthered her belief that _most_ humans were simply insane). That was until she had taken a wrong turn -or, more accurately, several wrongs turns- during her trip through the Lowtown markets.

Merrill inwardly groaned at that memory.

She remembered vividly how the stench had assaulted her nostrils almost immediately upon entering the Undercity, so much so that her eyes had watered and her vision had blurred. The damp fog that had covered the streets didn't help much either. Both had killed her senses. She had placed a hand on her scarf, pulling it above her nose in the attempt to block out the smell and the possibly toxic fumes. That had distracted her enough that she hadn't felt the change in texture beneath her feet until it had been too late. She had no longer been stepping on dusty, rocky roads; instead the ground had felt like a thick layer of wet, warm, sludge.

Sewage.

It had been raw, filthy sewage smushed under her bare foot; excess of it had seeped around and between her toes. The sight had made her want to gag. As if the air hadn't been bad enough. What had been worse was that she had suspected it to have been human waste rather than animal. Why had that seemed worse? Maybe because cats and dogs don't leave such a hefty size.

…Maybe.

…Probably.

…Perhaps not.

Mabari are fairly large dogs.

Merrill sighed.

That had been the start of very bad day. Eventually, Varric had found her and had walked her home. He had explained in between chuckles that she had wandered to Darktown, "Kirkwall's underground shit factory" as he had put it. Once they had reached her home, he handed her a ball of twine for when she left for the markets again. She appreciated his help, but it was quite embarrassing. It had felt like he would have patted her on the head, like a child, if he could have reached it. But aside from that, it had been at that point that she had promised herself that she would not venture into Darktown so long as she didn't have to. She had believed it to be a danger to her health.

Merrill snorted.

She would probably find this funny later. Given that one of her main reasons, among many others, she had avoided Darktown had related to health, and yet here she was, treading through these filthy streets again, with open sores and cuts on her feet no less, just to get to Anders' clinic. She wouldn't be surprised if she developed an infection during her trip; which is why she made sure to scan the ground before taking each and every step, searching for the cleanest spot within reach to land her injured feet. It was not an easy task, and it did garner her a few weird looks, but that wasn't something she cared about. Not now anyway. It was better to play it safe rather than not, lest there be a second trip through this "shit factory".

* * *

><p>There weren't many people waiting for Anders once Merrill got to the clinic. She was grateful for that. She didn't want to occupy too much of Anders' time, especially when he could be helping someone who was in greater need. He seemed to be finishing up with a young woman, passing her a small vial from a small pouch he kept at his side.<p>

Anders didn't spot her right away. She supposed that was understandable. She had shyly hid herself in the back of the clinic, waiting for a moment when he looked available. Apparently she hadn't hid herself quite well enough; for when she caught Anders' eyes, he quirked a brow at her clumsy attempt at blending in with the wall. Merrill smiled and waved timidly at him.

"Merrill? Why are you here?" Anders looked past her as if he were expecting to see someone accompanying her. "Is Hawke here as well?"

"No, no. I'm here on my own," Merrill answered. She felt a little uncomfortable speaking to Anders directly, with neither Hawke nor Varric around. Their conversations usually ended with hurt feelings, and it was normally only at her end. "I'm here about my feet." She looked down.

Anders studied her briefly, "Alright." He led her to a makeshift chair; two small boxes stacked on top of one another with a thin yellow cloth laid over them. "Have a seat and I'll have a look."

Merrill did so. Anders knelt down to closer inspect her injuries. There were blisters, both broken and unbroken, on and around her toes. Some of the open sores had begun to scar. The skin around was inflamed, probably irritated from the walk through Darktown. With one hand, he lifted her foot to examine her soles. Thin cuts traced the bottom, cuts that should have healed on their own with no problem days ago. Anders dropped her foot and let out an annoyed sigh. Merrill swallowed and braced herself for the nagging that was to come.

Anders stood straight up and eyed her. "You haven't been using the cream I gave you, have you?"

"I have!" Merrill stated. Anders didn't look as though he believed her. Merrill quickly searched through her pockets and pulled out the two wooden containers that Anders had given her days ago. She removed the lids and aimed the container towards him. "See," They were both empty, not a drop of the green gel left. Anders grabbed both small wooden boxes with a queer look on his face.

"I don't understand," Anders rubbed his whiskered chin. "Your more serious wounds on your arms and stomach healed just fine." Merrill rubbed the arm that the ogre had sliced. She traced the pink scar through her clothing. "If you had used the crushed elfroot as you've said, then one should have been enough to completely heal you." Anders placed the containers on a nearby table, and then knelt back down. "From the looks of it, it doesn't appear that your wounds have gotten any worse." He held her feet softly in the palms of his hands. A soft blue light began to glow from his finger tips, slowly enveloping her feet.

Merrill felt the warmth of the magic pulsing through her feet. The skin of her foot began to smooth and heal, as well as return to its natural color. It felt rather nice. She had been about to close her eyes and enjoy the feeling when she suddenly heard a quizzical hum from Anders. Her eyes dropped down.

"This is…taking much longer than it should."

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly as I've just said," The light from Anders hands increased in size and strength. "This is taking too long to heal." Anders continued with his healing for just a moment longer before abruptly stopping. "I can't use up all my mana for this. I still have a day's worth of patients to worry about. You are going to have to make do for now."

"That's fine. I understand," Merrill smiled, flexing her toes and feet. They still were not completely healed, but walking should become more tolerable. "It feels much better than it had earlier. Thank you, Anders."

"…You're welcome, Merrill," Anders didn't appear comfortable saying that, and, admittedly, him thanking her had sounded rather foreign on his tongue. "Maybe you should consider getting a pair of leather shoes, or boots even, at least until your feet are completely healed."

Merrill thought for a moment. "…I can't…I just can't."

"They're not that expensive. You could probably get a decent pair for a couple of slivers."

"No, I mean wearing shoes would make me feel-" _'Like less of an elf'_, she wanted to say, but she didn't think it would be something he would understand. "-odd."

Anders threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine, have it your way."

"Anders!" Hawke's voice boomed from the other side of the clinic. Merrill and Anders stood up to face the approaching man. From what they could see, Varric and Fenris weren't too far behind. "I see your clinic is not as packed as it was last time that I saw. That's good! I wanted to ask-" Hawke stopped when he caught sight of the both of them. "Merrill? I wasn't expecting you to be her."

"Oh, hello, Hawke. I was just here for my feet."

"Is that so? Are they feeling any better?"

"Yes. Thanks to Anders, my feet feel much better now."

"There was something you wanted to ask me, Hawke?" Anders interjected.

Hawke nodded in Anders' direction. "I wanted to ask, if you are not too busy, if you would like to join us in the Fade?"

"The Fade?" Merrill questioned. Oh, he was talking about the Beyond. That certainly was strange. Why would Hawke be going to the Beyond? Better question. How does he even plan on entering the Beyond? He was no mage, and only mages can enter the Beyond in an awaken state.

"I've received a letter from Arianni this morning," Hawke pulled out the parchment from his pocket; though the words could not be made out from that distance, from what little Merrill could see, the writing had looked rushed and perhaps even desperate. "Do you remember her, Merrill?"

"Arianni? Of course I do." Arianni did at one point have a home in the Alienage after all. Merrill used to see her from time to time near the vhenedhal, conversing with the other older female elves, though that had been about three years ago. From what she understood, Keeper Marethari had taken both her and her son, Feynriel, in after they had rescued him from the slavers. "Are her and Feynriel still with the Dalish?"

Hawke shook his head, "Not at the moment, no." Concern struck Merrill. Hawke continued before she could ask another question. "I've just come back from speaking with Arianna and Keeper Marethari. Feynriel is currently in a coma, trapped within the Fade, and we need to get to him before demons corrupt him. Marethari has set up a ritual at Feynriel's childhood home that would allow us to enter the Fade to do just that."

Anders crossed his arms. "That does sound bad."

Merrill sucked on her bottom lip. She was certainly curious about all this, and just as concerned about Feynriel's wellbeing. She had pushed for Hawke to allow him to live and to learn to control his magic among the Dalish instead of The Circle. And if Keeper Marethari was involved and sought the help of Hawke, then this must be something very, very serious. Plus, she was also curious about this ritual Keeper Marethari was to perform. The Keeper had never told her she knew of such a thing.

Merrill gathered her courage and asked, "Can I come?"

"Why am I not surprised?" Fenris rolled his eyes.

"I would like to help and I would love to see the ritual," Merrill said sincerely.

"Well, she's more eager than I am to go," Anders stated.

"So I guess you're not volunteering, Anders?" Hawke asked.

"I worry what a journey to the Fade might bring out in me, but I'll go if needed," Anders answered.

"Well this doesn't seem like a hard decision. Daisy's practically bouncing," Varric chimed from behind Hawke.

Hawke laughed. "I think you're right, Varric. And look at her eyes! They're like a kitten's, begging to be feed and taken home. How could anyone say no to that?" Merrill blushed a bit at their comments.

"I most certainly could," Fenris stated.

"That is because you're heartless," Hawke joked.

"Am not," Fenris actually looked a little offended at that.

"I think the elf keeps forgetting to put his heart back in every morning."

Hawke laughed loudly. "And so he crushes the hearts of others in jealously!" he added. Fenris made an irritated sound under his breath, crossed his arms tightly, and turned his scowl towards the far wall. Hawke and Varric continued to laugh at his display.

Merrill cleared her throat to catch the men's attention. "So, can I?" she asked again.

Hawke smiled and shrugged. "I don't see why not. If you're done here you could come with us to the Lowtown's Alienage now."

"Ma serannas," Merrill thanked him.

Hawke nodded. "Come on then. The longer Feynriel is in the Fade, the more danger he is in."

* * *

><p>Hawke swiftly lead the group out of the clinic and through the streets of Darktown. Merrill was glad to be in the company of friends as she left that dreadful place. The filthy ground and air wasn't all she had to worry about. Thieves and murderers were known to commit their crimes out in the open here in the Undercity, day or night, and witnesses of those crimes would never bother to contact the authorities, let alone bat an eye. Violence was a common enough occurrence here. And a lone, wide-eyed, elven girl would surely catch unwanted attention.<p>

…Though, she must say, that wasn't the only reason she was glad to be in their company.

She breathed in slowly, steadying her heart.

It was absolute bliss being around Hawke and the others. She would even describe it as bizarrely euphoric. It just felt…well… _good_; though if someone were to ask her why, she would be unable to explain. She hadn't felt this way in the past when she had joined Hawke on his adventures. Yes, she did enjoy their time together, and it was wonderful to feel included, but, somehow, this was different. Maybe she just simply missed being around others…but that didn't seem right either. It had only been three days since the afternoon she had left Hawke's home, the day Fenris had finally woken up, and ever since then she has actually felt quite… lonely. Almost as if she were missing something. Perhaps she should have had considered visiting The Hanged Man during her lonesome days. Isabela had always managed to cheer her up.

That wasn't all she was feeling.

Merrill caressed the goose-bumps that surfaced on her skin.

There were eyes on her. She could feel them burning through her back and settling in her abdomen; the heat was pouring into the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure what to make of it. It didn't make her feel uncomfortable, in fact, it didn't bother her at all; it was just simply there.

"You ok, elf? You look a little…antsy," Varric said.

Fenris hadn't heard him at first. His mind had been elsewhere it had appeared. Soon he shook himself to attention. "I'm fine," he stated.

"Are you sure?" Varric didn't believe him. "You've kind of been like this all morning."

"Perhaps…I'm a little anxious. I haven't had much else to do for the last three days but train. That and I have no desire to enter the Fade," Fenris offered up his excuses. None of which he seemed convinced about himself. He swallowed hard and casted his eyes towards the crowded streets up ahead. They were not far from the Alienage now.

Hawke had been listening to their conversation from the front of the group. He glanced back at his companions as they continued to walk through the dusty road. "I'm not surprised you're restless, Fenris; lying in bed for over a week, only to wake up just to sit around at home, doing nothing but drinking and practicing your swordsmanship, it doesn't sound very fun at all. You should have stopped by The Hanged Man. I was there, you know. I could have taken you to the Wounded Coast so that you could have taken out your aggression on some poor sods."

Fenris nodded. "I'll remember that next time then."

"As if we need another reason to go to the Wounded Coast," Varric groaned.

Hawke chuckled. "That's very true. Sundermount would be the better option then."

Fenris inhaled softly. "I must say, the scent here is quite lovely. It's…calming."

"Here? In Lowtown?" Hawke snorted. "Well if you mean compared to Darktown, then I would agree with you. Yes, yes indeed it is; though I will say that the smell of low tide, seaweed, and rancid fish are not much of an improvement."

Fenris looked at the bloody fish that hung from hooks attached to the wooden displays that lined the markets. A number of flies buzzed around the decaying bodies, eating and nesting. The merchants swatted away at the insects with questionably stained rags. Fenris' face soured and he nearly gagged at the sight. He never liked fish. He much preferred fresh fruits. "It's good that there is a soft scent here then."

Varric turned to face Fenris, a brow firmly raised. "Are you serious, elf? What? Do you have roses stuffed in your pockets? Because all I smell is that shit Hawke stepped in back in Darktown."

"Maker! That's me?!"

* * *

><p>They were receiving suspicious glances from the elves around them. That was unsurprising. The elves in the Alienage had good reason not to trust outsiders. Both humans and dwarves were an uncommon sight in the Alienage. And the ones that did show up were rarely there with good intent. More likely they were slavers who had made it passed the guards, or some nobleman's lackey searching for a pretty elf to bring back. The fact that Merrill and Fenris were accompanying Hawke didn't taper their suspicions.<p>

Hawke stopped in front of a cheap wooden door. The potted plants beside the doorframe were brown, dying of thirst; it didn't appear that anyone had lived in that home for quite some time. None the less, Hawke knocked firmly on the splintered door and waited patiently. The door opened with a sharp creak, revealing Arianni. Her eyes were puffy and red from the stress of tears, making her face look aged well beyond her true years.

A small amount of relief was evident on her face. "I'm so glad you're back, Messere Hawke…Feynriel…" She trailed.

"I came as quickly as I could. Is the Keeper ready?" Hawke asked.

"I believe so," Arianni opened the door further, allowing them to enter. She led them to Marethari.

Merrill looked around the room in fascination. There were various red circles, among other shapes, painted on the dusty wooden panels that made up the floor. She wasn't familiar with the eccentric design herself, though if she had to describe it, she would probably call it ancient and certainly elven; the words that bordered the painted shapes were evidence of that. The room was dim and eerily silent. Candles lined the dressers and partially broken shelves, a dense layer of dust particles danced within the low light. The room hadn't been cleaned for ages. The corners and ceiling were veiled in darkness; candlelight could not reach very far. The room looked and felt entirely separate from the rest of the home, as if it were center of an abyss. Keeper Marethari stood by her work as she waited for Hawke's return.

Merrill, Varric, and Fenris sat off to the side, giving Hawke and the Keeper privacy to further discuss the ritual and Feynriel's fate.

Merrill couldn't wait to enter the Beyond with Hawke and the others. Opportunities like this were rare and she was sure this would prove to be very interesting and, most importantly, informative. This may be an excellent chance to learn more about spirits and the Beyond. Though, from the looks of it, she was alone in this feeling. Varric seemed indifferent about this, as he was with most things related to magic and mages… about anything that wouldn't make a good story, really… or fill his pockets.

There was a gentle pat on the small of her back. Merrill froze for a moment, the faint contact catching her off guard. Armored fingers traced soft circles through her clothing, before swiftly disappearing. Shyly, she peered at the figure that had been attempting to distance itself.

She caught him before he could escape into the darkness.

Fenris looked as shocked at his own actions as she was. His eyes confused and lips curled, unsure whether or not to apologies or remain silent. He did his best not to look at her direction. Nothing was said for what felt like ages, though it couldn't have been more than a few seconds. "…sorry," it was barely audible. "…I didn't-"

"Alright," Hawke stood in front the group. "Is everyone ready? We have only one chance at this." Fenris exhaled, thankful for the sudden interruption. He crossed his arms and gave Hawke a firm nod.

Marethari stepped forward. "I hope you have chosen carefully, for all will face temptation."

Marethari watched as they all took their positions, but she did not watch them all equally. Merrill felt her eyes linger on her a little longer than the others. She supposed that was understandable. They had history, they were once a family, and she had left on bad terms.

Despite her better judgment, Merrill caught Marethari's gaze, and when she did, she instantly regretted it.

Keeper's eyes spoke volumes, and today they were especially plentiful. They carried wisdom, pain, knowing, and, most of all, disappointment.

* * *

><p>The Beyond.<p>

The realm of spirits and imitations. Remnants of the real world stitched incoherently together by the spirits that dwell; people, objects, and places, taken from the memories of those that dream, altered and twisted, perhaps in jealously, or simply to manipulate those already vulnerable to a malicious spirit's charm.

They were in the Gallows, the Templar Halls more specifically. Banners decorated the ceiling and walls, marked with a white sword, symbolizing the order. Weeping statues of emaciated slaves hung from the pillars that lined the center of the hall, a reminder of Kirkwall's history. Ghostly aspirations of barrels and books flew around the room like birds. It was uncanny.

"So this is the Fade?" Varric asked. "I'm not impressed."

"I have to admit I was expecting something quite different, something a bit more interesting, preferably raunchier, dirtier, and with a lot more nudity. Feynriel is a young man. They could have used a memory of a drunken night spent with a cute elf girl, could they not? I'm sure he has one of those," Hawke frowned.

"Well, you could go to the Blooming Rose when we're done here, if that's what you're looking for," Varric offered. Fenris snorted at the comment.

"I should have added disease free to that list." Hawke shook his head. "Demons lack imagination it seems. Even in the Fade I'm still trapped behind the walls of Kirkwall."

Merrill looked around the hall. None of this was really new to her. Mages, unlike everyone else, could remember their time in the Beyond. It was the same world she had seen in her dreams over and over. Copies of memories shrouded in a mystical yellowish hue, glowing and blurring in front of her eyes. Nothing she had not seen or experienced before, so far at least. Still, she should remain on her guard. Physical body or not.

With a low sigh, Merrill looked down at her feet as to clear away any worries that remained. They were fine, slightly scarred by the slow and improper healing that had gone on for days prior, but fine overall. One of the benefits of being in the Beyond was that physical impairments were virtually nonexistent if one believed it not to be. Not counting the ones inflicted while in the Beyond that was.

She blinked.

There was a soft, pink, barely visible glow around her abdomen. Well _that _was certainly something new. Of all her time spent in the Beyond she had never once glowed, not even a little. The glow was practically invisible. She doubted Hawke and the others would be able to see it from where they stood. She ran her fingers through it… nothing, nothing but a faintest hint of warmth.

"Demons approaching!" Fenris shouted.

Merrill jolted to attention, her hand grasping the staff on her back before she had even seen the oncoming threat. There was movement to her right side. She felt it. She rapidly threw two spirit bolts at that direction, catching the sloth spirit in the chest before the demon's claws could descend on her. It froze from the sudden shock. Smoked escaped the cavity created by the two powerful bolts. The spirit dropped with a sickening gargle, deflated, and then disappeared, leaving no trace of its existence.

Merrill exhaled and eyed her surroundings.

There were sloth and rage demons- **a lot** of sloth and rage demons- circling her and her companions. The spirits had appeared so silently, so quickly, and yet so aggressively. If Fenris hadn't shouted that warning, the sloth demon that had attempted to sneak up on her may have been successful, sinking its long, sharp talons deep into her flesh. The damage would have been great, though not enough to send her back through the veil… but looking at the swarm of demons floating around them, waiting for an opportunity to strike, that may very well still happen. The demons were all too aware of the advantage they had in their numbers.

Merrill bit her lip and held her staff defensively.

The demons stalked them predatorily, silently picking their prey from the herd. Merrill began to discreetly charge an elemental spell, Cone of Cold; although it was not the strongest spell in her disposal, it served a tactical purpose here, as it would affect both the sloth and rage demons, freezing and slowing their bodies long enough for either Hawke or Varric to shatter. It was a technique they had used many times in the past, and it had worked out quite well.

Merrill further tapped into her pool of mana.

A sudden wail was heard, and the demons lunged towards her. They seemed to have had sensed her magic, despite her careful attempts in concealing her use. The spirits were much too fast, and she had not been able to fully charge her spell yet. Quickly, she began alternating between throwing heavy stone fists and quick bolts from her staff.

Some connected, most didn't.

Only three demons had fallen.

"Merrill, run!" She heard Hawke shout; from the sound of his strained voice, it appeared he was in a midst of a fight himself- Varric too. She could faintly hear Bianca clicking and releasing behind her. The demons had drawn her companions away from her, separating what they must have viewed as the weakest sheep from the herd. They were closing in for the kill.

Merrill staggered back in the attempt to distance herself from the approaching enemies, but it was proving to be futile. Their weightless bodies moved much faster than her feet ever could. Her back hit the cold bronze statue that hung from the pillar. A curse slipped her. How could she have had let herself get backed into a corner? How foolish of her! She could now feel the fire blazing off the skin of the rage spirits. Nearly searing her flesh uncovered by clothing. They were so close now. The demons closest to her raised their claws and readied their flames.

She held her breath.

A flash of brilliant blue dashed past her at an extraordinary speed. She would have almost missed it if it were not for the vivid hue emanating from the lean transparent figure. The lyrium ghost was haunting, beautiful, and fierce. Fenris moved with divine grace even whilst wielding his heavy weapon. He attacked with relentless force and velocity. His sword had become a bolt of lightning, striking her enemies mercilessly with fast, powerful, deadly precision. The demons' numbers dropped with every mighty swing of his great sword.

Merrill was fixated. She stood there, clutching her staff tightly, in awe at Fenris' surprising manifestation of raw power.

Fenris had always been a formidable warrior, but this was an entirely new level of skill she has never seen from him before. It was amazing. If he had shown this much prowess during their battle with the horde of darkspawn he would have never…

Her mind froze.

It was coming together now. "…That…can't be," she whispered.

_Could it?_

It made sense. And it was the only thing that would explain his new found strength.

This was bad. This was something that couldn't be ignored. Everyone, including Fenris, would surely notice the sharp increase of his strength and abilities, and that couldn't be explained away so easily. Surviving the attack was one thing, past wounds and scars healing, another, but this-

Merrill's face grimaced.

Creators, she hoped Hawke could save her from this somehow.

The demons twisted and wailed in pain, their cries echoing through the nearly empty hall. Heads and limbs fell in a heap on the floor, vanishing after mere seconds. Soon the Templar Hall, within Feynriel's mind, was cleared of the wicked spirits. Fenris stood by the remaining bodies that had yet to have disappeared, his natural colors returning, the blue fading and his lyrium markings dimming. He holstered his sword onto his back.

"Are you harmed?" he asked.

Merrill did the best she could to keep herself calm. "I'm fine. Thank you, Fenris. I thought they had me."

"They would have, if you hadn't called me."

"I…uh…I did?"

"Yes, you did." Fenris had sounded annoyed with her, nothing new there. Though she wasn't entirely sure she understood why he was annoyed with her to begin with.

"Is everyone alright?" Hawke and Varric jogged towards them. Both Merrill and Fenris nodded. "Good. I was afraid we would all be sent back before we even reached Feynriel."

"I think I pulled something," Varric interjected. "Any more surprises like that, and we might not last long to find the kid."

"Agreed," Hawke rubbed his neck. "Though, I have to say, if Fenris keeps up the way he has then we should be fine. That was brilliant, by the way. Have you've been holding back on us all this time?" Hawke smiled.

Fenris acknowledged the compliment with a quiet groan; he didn't meet Hawke's eyes, choosing instead to stare off to the side at nothing in particular. Hawke looked on in confusion.

"Um, Fenris, are you alright?"

"…Hawke," Merrill whispered. She placed her hand lightly on top of his own, insuring that she had his full attention. She attempted to keep her movement as minimal as possible, hoping not to draw suspicion from Fenris. He clearly was uncertain about his abilities and he suspected _something_. She just knew it.

Hawke glanced at Merrill. There was a short moment of silent communication. Hawke's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

He understood. Good.

"Well, we shouldn't be standing here for too much longer. Demons may be regrouping as we speak and Feynriel is still in danger," Hawke said coolly. He began to make his way towards the only open door in the hall. Varric and Merrill followed. Fenris remained still for just a second longer before following.

Fenris moved with purpose, his fists balled at his side. He caught up with Hawke at the head of their group. "When we are done here, Hawke, I would like to have a word, privately."

Hawke's eyes remained forward. "Absolutely," he stated.

Merrill's heart pounded in her chest.

* * *

><p>"Another one for Bianca!" Varric shouted, victoriously.<p>

Merrill wiped her brow once the last frozen rage spirit shattered before her. The rest of their journey had gone rather smoothly (thank the Creators). Nothing like the ambush that had occurred earlier happened again. They had made swift work of desire demon and the other spirits that stood in their way. Now they were making their way forward, moving closer and closer to the final demon. No other spirits approached them once they entered the long, silent hall.

There were in his territory it seemed.

Hawke opened the double doors fearlessly, stepping forward into the enclosed courtyard. Once again, they watched as an invisible audience as Hawke spoke to both Feynriel and the demon in disguise. And like before, Feynriel fled to safety when the demon's wicked intentions had been revealed. With a burst of light, the pride demon took its true form.

"You!" The demon roared. "You would interfere?" The demon towered over them, attempting to intimidate his intruders. Needless to say, it didn't work very well.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would," Hawke smirked. "Feynriel will not become an abomination. Not while I'm here to stop you."

The demon laughed. "You think he wouldn't desire such power? Fool! If you hadn't come along, he would have joined with me willingly and we would have changed the world!"

"Doubt it. Have you've even seen an abomination? Ghastly creatures!" Hawke waved him off.

"You put such stock in appearance? Perhaps that is why your friends' loyalty are only skin deep." The demon turned its eyes towards her. Merrill's blood went cold. "You think this elf, with her innocent face, would turn down a demon's offer? She didn't before. How about it? Would you take what I offered the boy? Become the savior of elven kind?"

Her heart thumped.

She was suddenly flooded with an array of emotions: hope, desire, fear, it was all bubbling inside of her, overwhelming her.

"Can you...do that?" she asked

"I am the greatest of my kind! Whatever tricks your pet has taught you will pale in comparison." The demon boasted.

Save her clan. Save her people. To gain back everything they had lost. Was it possible? Could this spirit -this demon- help her succeed where the eluvian could not?

It had been a long three years. And throughout those years, it had only been failure after failure; believing that she had been so close, so **very** close, to fixing the eluvian, only to have been wrong. Maybe...maybe this was her chance; her last chance at saving her people and reclaiming their long forgotten history.

The temptation was too great.

"Merrill, don't listen to it. This is trickery," Hawke warned.

"I..." Was what Hawke saying true? Was she being fooled? Was she under this demon's influences, under its spell? Why was this feeling so great? Why does it feel like this is her only hope in redeeming her people's history, their lives, and their freedom? "…I'm sorry, Hawke"

"Merrill, please," Hawke begged.

She bit her lip. "...I cannot put you ahead of the fate of my people."

The demon chuckled, darkly, "I've lost my dreamer, but you will make a nice replacement!"

Hawke looked at her with those eyes. The same eyes Keeper Marethari had looked at her with when she had first came down Sundermount, after having accepted the demon's offer and teachings.

The look of sheer and utter disappointment.

"Is this truly what you want, Merrill?" Hawke asked, roughly. Merrill drew her staff and nodded sharply. "So be it." Hawke removed his daggers from his back.

Before either of them could make a move, the demon's hand came down hard, smashing the ground between them with tremendous force. Both Hawke and Merrill jumped back to avoid the shockwave and the jagged rocks that had been tossed by the impact. Merrill saw that Hawke had landed not too far from her. He remained crouched down, one dagger at hand the other nowhere in sight. She took this opportunity to aim a freeze spell at his feet.

The ice hardened quickly, cementing his left foot to the courtyard's stone tiled floor. Hawke hadn't noticed his predicament until he attempted to dodge one of the demon's spells. He had tripped over himself before receiving a powerful, shocking bolt to the shoulder. He growled at the throbbing, searing pain, and searched for what had held him back. His eyes widened when he saw the cold crystal that held his foot firmly in place.

"Merrill!" Hawke shouted. His attention didn't last on her for much longer. The pride demon approached him, fists raised, threatening to crush his bones to dust.

Hawke ground his teeth. There was no way for him to escape.

Just as the demon's fists were coming down, a series of arrows pieced its elbow, forcing the spirit's arm to drop. The pride demon roared in anger and in pain. His arm limp at his side.

"Take that you spiky bastard!" Varric shouted, before loading and releasing another arrow. This one aimed right for the creature's neck.

The pride demon swatted the offending arrow away with its uninjured arm. Then, from seemly nowhere, Fenris came at the creature, slamming his shoulder into the massive demon. The demon was knocked quite a distance away from Hawke, allowing him the chance to free himself from the ice without distraction…or so he thought.

Merrill threw several stone fists at Hawke's direction.

Hawke dodged as best as he could whilst his foot remained stuck, ducking and swaying away from the cursed stones. It appeared Merrill was aiming straight for his head. Her mistake. He was dexterous enough to avoid such high attacks, despite his current limitation. In between dodges he hammered the hilt of his dagger against the ice, chipping and loosening the thick, frozen walls that held his foot. He was close to freedom now.

Merrill gave up on her tactic of strictly going for kill shots. Hawke was much too fast and not quite as stupid as the bandits she had used this move on. She eyed him, scanning as quickly as possible for an easier target. Sharp green eyes caught sight and locked on. She threw her next stone fist with additional force.

The fist collided with Hawke's shoulder, already bloodied and burned from the shocking bolt the pride demon had thrown at him. He screamed out in pain, pressing his hand -along with the hilt of his blade- against the wound. Hawke hissed as the cold steel touched his opened flesh. He snarled up at Merrill, removing his hand from his injury and raising his blade high.

"Merrill, your stone fists," Hawke, fueled by anger, smashed the hilt of his weapon onto the ice, shattering it to tiny, clear shards. The second his leg was freed, he dashed towards Merrill, dagger at hand, ready to slice. "Are bloody annoying!"

Merrill brought up the bladed tip of her staff, ready to plunge it into Hawke's chest once he came within her range.

Unfortunately for her, that hadn't taken long. He was in range much faster than she could react. His blade, aimed at the large artery in her neck, was already coming down. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, awaiting the pain and eventual death.

Once again, she had failed.

Merrill winced as a sharp noise rang through her ears, the sound of steel meeting steel. There was no pain, no blood, just the ringing. She peeked from one eye, searching for its source.

She was met with white.

Fenris stood in front of her, sword raised, blocking Hawke's attack with ease. Hawke continued to press down against the blade, attempting to break through Fenris' defenses.

Fenris remained unmovable.

"Fenris," Hawke growled. "Have you've gone mad?!"

Fenris stared back at Hawke. Eyes wide and confused, mouth slightly ajar as if to speak, but no words had managed to escape. His body was like a stone wall, hard and motionless, guarding its obligation. "...I..."

The demon bellowed with laughter, practically shaking the entire courtyard. It stood up from the rumble he laid in; its face bloodied, arrows embedded in its thick skin, and the previously damaged arm sliced clean off. "So it's true! The guardian protects its sire! The elf belongs to the mage!" The demon laughed harder.

"What's he talking about? Hawke, what's this son of a bitch talking about?!" Varric shouted.

The creature grinned madly, exposing the many rows of large, jagged teeth. "It seems I've gained more than just a host."

Merrill stared at the bone white hair in front of her. The demon's words sinking in. Steadily, she maneuvered to Fenris' side, her eyes never leaving him. His head gradually turned to meet her just as she had approached him.

Their eyes locked, and suddenly it all became clear.

His green eyes pleaded with her, silently begging her to release him from whatever this spell may be. She ignored it. This was above him… above her. And this battle would determine the fate of her people- their people! Could he not see that this was for the good of all elven kind? Was he so selfish as to let his fears get in the way? Sacrifices must be made. Winning was the only thing that mattered now, and yes, _Fenris_, consequences be damned.

Merrill raised a single finger at Hawke. With the disposition of a king and a face of sheer determination, she gave her first command.

"Go."

Fenris's body began to tremble, his great sword falling to the ground as his body twisted. He grunted in pain, clenching his jaw tight to prevent himself from screaming. The color was fleeting from his skin, dulling and darkening. His large elven eyes blackened. His lyrium tattoos glowed, but not their usual blue; instead radiating a fierce crimson. The light –the energy- emitting from his markings wrapped around his form like flames. He snarled, lips curling and teeth baring. Hawke jumped back in horror. Distancing himself from the potentially dangerous threat.

Fenris was no longer a man, nor an elf, but a beast. A molten beast.

"Fenris!" Hawke shouted. He then casted his eyes towards Merrill. "What have you done?!"

Then he saw it. A blazing aura whipped and wrapped around Merrill as well, dancing around her dark form. Red markings traced her body, markings identical to Fenris' lyrium tattoos.

Merrill gazed upon Hawke with cold, black eyes. "I did what was needed."

Fenris delivered a blaring battle-cry and charged forth.

Before Hawke could register what was happening, his head was thwacked against the far wall. Fenris' burning armored hand pressed his skull further and further into the cracking stone. Everything had gone dark, and all Hawke could hear was a low ringing in his ear. He could feel the blood pouring from the split wound on the back of his head.

"Hawke!" Varric shouted.

Arrows soared through the air, piercing Fenris in the arm and on his side. Hawke felt the fingers that gripped him loosen. He flopped onto the floor.

Fenris turned to face his offender.

Hawke weakly pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, taking a moment to spit the blood that had collected in his mouth out in front of him. He forced his eyes open, ignoring the painful pulsing behind them. His vision was distorted, the courtyard was blurring and swaying. Maker, his head must have been slammed pretty hard.

The clatter of wood and steel brought his attention to the bloody broken arrows that had been landed before him. Hawked peered up at the glowing beast that had nearly cracked open his skull.

Fenris had been pulling out the invading arrows. His face remained expressionless as he yanked out the last of the projectiles. Hawke saw as the entrance wounds closed and smoothed in a matter of seconds. The damaged that had been done, erased.

"Impossible," Hawke whispered.

"Hawke, move out of the way!" Varric warned.

Hawke felt and heard the rumbling. Whatever it was, it was coming from behind Fenris. Hawke painfully got onto his feet and jumped off to the side as the shockwave hit. A dense layer of dust and rocks emerged from the shockwave attack. Fenris hissed as he was forced to dodge.

"I tire of this battle!" The demon roared. "Be done with it so that I may claim my prize!"

Fenris eyed the demon with his black pools, perceiving it to be a threat. He grabbed his great sword and held it at his side. And then he bolted towards the monstrous creature. He would have vanished completely if it were not for the flaming energy that trailed closely behind him. The crimson light soared across the courtyard, stopping abruptly in front of the massive demon; Fenris' long sword was nearly entirely lost within the demon's abdomen.

The demon cried out. "You foolish beast! You've remained untamed?!"

The pride demon struck Fenris with its only arm. Fenris swiftly raised a forearm to block. The attack had landed with a loud boom, the force of it sweeping around them, blowing away dust and debris. Fenris remained unmoved and unfazed. With a mad, twisted grin, Fenris wrapped his raised arm around the demon's, holding the creature in place as he pulled out his great sword.

The demon wailed and screeched as he was repeatedly impaled. It wiggled and pulled with all its might, attempting to free its trapped arm, but it was futile. A puddle of dark purple blood formed around its feet.

Hawke watched the scene in horror.

What in Andraste's name was he doing?

Hawke pulled his eyes away from the assault. He licked his lips and crawled around in search his discarded weapons, his head still throbbing in pain and his legs shaky, even without the weight of standing. He spotted his dagger not too far off, and immediately went to reclaim it.

A burst of flames scorched his hand when he had attempted to retrieve it. Hawke hissed in pain, jerking back his hand.

"I don't think so," Merrill said, coldly.

"Damn it, Merrill! Don't you see that you are being played! This demon has no interests in your people," Hawke shouted.

Merrill remained quiet.

"This demon only wants you as its host! As a means to entering our realm! He will terrorize **all** if he is freed! Both humans and elves! Do you truly want to bring about further suffering onto your people?"

His words had sunk in, but the demon's grasp on her mind was already far too great.

"It's...It's too late, Hawke." Merrill raised both her arms, waving her staff steadily, the rest of her mana gathering for one final attack. "I'll end this with a rain of fire." The crimson aura around her grew.

…and then it disappeared. The red energy faded along with the markings that decorated her body. The blackness of her eyes melting away.

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Merrill looked down at herself and saw a single arrow planted firmly inside her chest, piercing her heart. She looked up at Varric in the distance; his eyes still aimed down the sights, a finger still pressed down on Bianca's trigger.

She sunk to the floor. The taste of blood and metal filling her mouth.

It's strange.

She had expected dying to be a bit more painful.

Her body disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Hawke closed his eyes and sighed, sadly. A loud clatter of heavy steel meeting stony ground jointed him back to attention. He turned quickly; ready to dodge any oncoming attacks, but none came.

Fenris was on his knees, his appearance normal, though his mouth and eyes were wide in dismay. The pride demon's body beside him; torn to shreds, horns and limbs scattering in a large pool of purple blood. Fenris grunted and moaned as if in pain. He dropped down onto his stomach when his heart had stopped and he had no longer been breathing. Like Merrill, his lifeless body vanished in a cloud of smoke.

It had become deathly silent.

The courtyard was now empty, with the exception of Hawke and Varric. The demon's mangled body gone with everything else dead. Neither of them moved nor spoke, both silently recollecting the event that had just taken place, eyes casted to where their companions' bodies once laid.

"...we should...find Feynriel," Hawke finally spoke.

"...yeah," Varric placed Bianca on his back, walking over to Hawke to offer a hand.

* * *

><p>Merrill woke with a gasp.<p>

The shock of being forced back through the veil rattled her senses. She breathed in and out heavily, her awareness slowly coming back. A dark figure stomped passed her, escaping into the darkness before she had time to fully recover. A slam, along with wood cracking and shattering was heard off into the distance. Gradually, the world around her was becoming clear.

She was in someone else's home, lying on the hard wooden floor. The room was dim, lit by the many candles circling her. It heated the small room, warming her cold, sweat-drenched skin. Her companions lay across from her, asleep. Fenris was nowhere to be seen.

Then it all came flooding back.

She placed a hand on her chest where Varric's arrow had pierced her. Tears welled up in her eyes.

She had betrayed Hawke. She had betrayed all of them. How could she have done something so horrible, so stupid? She had allowed herself to be tempted by a spirit- no a demon, and she had been blinded by her pride.

And worst of all…

She had used Fenris against his will.

…like a puppet.

…No.

…A slave.

A chocked sob escaped her.

There was movement from the darkened corner of the room. Keeper Marethari stood up from her seat, stepping forward into the low light. Her brows were furrowed, tightly. Again, she looked at her with _those_ eyes.

Marethari studied her former first. "I had expected so much better from you, Da'len."

Marethari left, leaving Merrill alone with her sleeping companions.

And her sorrow.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, I know this took FOREVER, but it took forever to write, rewrite, edit, and rewrite again.

I've been thinking of going back and rewriting some chapters. Just to make sure it's consistent.

If you're interested to know (because I know some other authors do this) when I'm writing I usually have a tab open on Pandora Radio, with my 'Enigma' station playing low in the back ground. Yeah, I do listen to a lot of new age music stuff when I'm writing…and sometimes the Silent Hill 2 soundtrack (Theme Laura is still one of my favorite songs ever. For me, it's one of those songs that is able to wake me from a deep sleep when it starts up on my i-pod, and when it does it's just pure ecstasy).

For this chapter, I had mostly listened to The Mystic Dream by Loreena Mckennitt (I discovered it via Pandora Radio. Man, Pandora is one of the greatest sites out there.)

I'm telling you guys this because I'm one of those people that when someone mentions a song that they like, I instantly go to YouTube to listen to it. I'm ALWAYS looking for new songs. My taste in music is pretty eclectic, though I do favor metal, rock, new age, and anything avant garde. The weirder the better.

If you want to pop in a suggestion in the review, feel free.

Again, unbeta-ed…..you know the drill.

Please, please leave a review. I spent such a long time on this chapter. ;_;


	8. Truth

Blood Bonds

_Merrill learns that blood magic can never truly save a life at the brink of death. There are always sacrifices and consequences._

Chapter 8: Truth

The dust collected on top of the bodies of her sleeping companions.

Merrill sat within the darkness, hugging her knees to her chest, watching as the gray particles drifted lightly onto her companions' still forms.

The dark corner of the cheap living quarter was oddly comforting. She was hidden, safe, embraced by the darkness. It was quiet. She lay breathing, open-mouthed with the occasional hiccup. The noise kept the silence from becoming deafening.

She had stopped crying not too long ago, out of tears and just too tired to go on. Though her tear-stained cheeks were nearly dry, the pain was still there, nested deeply in her heart, much like Varric's arrow had been.

She clenched her chest and continued to watch her companions. The fight...her betrayal…they had begun to replay in her mind once more, but this time her memories were much more embellished, with details either exaggerated or simply false (she couldn't tell anymore).

In her memory, the demon's laughter was much louder, and had vibrated the courtyard. Hawke's pained expressions were so much clearer, his brow knitted closely together in anger, teeth baring as he hissed from her attacks. Varric's firm grip on Bianca, the tightness of his jaw, all helping steady his shaky hands. And worst of all, Fenris's eyes just before she gave the command, confused and so very terrified. In that moment she had become literally everything he had feared. A mage consumed by lust for power, willing to destroy anything in their path to get what they want, and willing to sacrifice the freedom of another to do so. She had become the monster he believed all mages were capable of being.

The very monster he had perhaps always believed her to be.

She shuddered, remembering the power she had felt: the flaring energy filling and wrapping around her, the heat in the pit of her stomach, burning, and spreading throughout her body in forms of tattoos. It was as if she had become a demon, reduced to anger and selfish desires. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, so strong, so fierce, and the thought of possibly having that power once again was so very tempting.

That terrified her.

She eyed the spot Fenris once laid. It was strangely empty. Red lines and yellow candles separated his space in the circle, right between Varric and Hawke. Fenris had run off the moment he had regained consciousness. He had stumbled out right past her, his body still in shock after having been forced back through the Veil. Who knew where he might be now? He was most likely back at his mansion, trying to understand what had happened...or plotting on ways of killing her without Hawke's interference.

She bit her lower lip. She was honestly surprised he hadn't attacked her right after awakening. It was what she expected.

It was what she deserved.

Hawke began coughing, his spirit returning to this realm. Varric groaned, twisting and turning before sitting up from where he laid. Merrill kept her eyes low as she watched her companions wake. She wasn't sure if she could face them. Even now, watching as they stretched stiff, numb limbs made her eyes pulse and burn with tears she thought were long gone. Perhaps it would be better if she left. After all, the only thing that had kept her from running to her shanty home and sinking her head into her pillow was the concern she had for her friends.

Merrill was about to pull herself up and take her leave when Keeper Marethari and Arianni entered the room.

Arianni marched towards Hawke, her dainty elven hands twisting part of her skirt before letting the fabric slip from her slender fingers. "Thank the Creators you're awake! What of Feynriel?"

Hawke stood up from where he had sat. Cracking his knuckles one last time, he looked to Arianni and offered a reassuring smile.

"Feynriel is safe." The elven mother exhaled deeply in relief. Hawke continued, "He was able to resist the demons and has decided to travel to Tevinter to learn to control his abilities."

"Tevinter?" Arianni's face dropped. It soon became clear that if Feynriel does indeed leave for Tevinter she might not see her son for a _very_ long time. "...So long as he is safe, I am happy." Arianni bowed. "Thank you, Messere, for all that you have done. I cannot repay you enough."

Hawke held up a hand, "There is no need. I was glad to be of help."

For the first time, for what felt like ages, Arianni smiled. She didn't often experience the kindness of humans. "I'd better return to the Dalish camp then…say my goodbyes."

Keeper Marethari placed a hand on the elven woman's shoulder. "You do that, dear." Arianni bowed once more, and then left. The Keeper then turned her attention to Hawke. "I had been prepared for the worst."

"As you should! The worst does tend to happen to me… quite a lot as a matter of fact." Hawke smiled.

"Hmph. I'm just glad this happened to be one of your better days, Hawke. Let's just say I'm not too curious to see what you would look like as an abomination," Varric interjected.

"Devilishly handsome despite the boils and hunchback?"

Varric chuckled. "Well then we could only hope abomination-Hawke would be too distracted by his own reflection to rip us apart."

Hawke snorted. "That was a little dark. If it would make you feel safer, Varric, as far as we know, mages are the only ones who can become abominations. Sadly that's one of the downsides of being able to shoot lightning from your fingertips. The worst I could suffer is possession. Your dwarven arms and legs would remain intact."

"As far as we know," Varric repeated, unsure. "Let's not be the ones to prove that theory otherwise."

The conversation began to fade away as Merrill's thoughts became louder. Hawke and Varric were speaking as if nothing had happened, joking and laughing as if they hadn't been threatened by a demon…or had been betrayed by one of their own.

On second thought, perhaps they are acting as they should. Not once since they have been up had they attempted to speak with her, or even spare her a glance. It was if she wasn't there at all. That was unusual for them. She couldn't recall there ever being a moment when both Varric and Hawke ignored her outright.

She wondered what could have been said after she had been forced back through the Veil.

She sighed. It doesn't matter. Perhaps she should focus on leaving now that she knew both Hawke and Varric were safe. She could save her apology for a better time, not when her emotions were still running high. Honestly, she doesn't know how much more stress she could take today.

Merrill finally stood up and quietly made her way towards the door, stepping lightly as to not disrupt the others with her movements.

"Merrill."

Hawke's voice paralyzed her, stopping her mid step. She swallowed, apprehensively turning to face him.

"I think it would be best if you'd come home with me."

That was a command. Though to the untrained ear it may have had sounded like a friendly suggestion, Merrill knew better. She has known Hawke long enough to know when he was certainly _not_ asking.

She struggled to respond, only managing a quiet "OK" before returning to the safety of the darkened corner of the room.

Merrill waited tensely as Hawke continued to speak with Keeper. She couldn't hear their words, just their soft whispers. It seemed like they were speaking deliberately low. She wasn't curious as to what they were saying. In fact, she would rather not hear anything about the Beyond. Not now. Not when the memories were still fresh.

Their conversation appeared to be coming to a close. Varric announced that he was heading back to The Hanged Man, adding that Hawke was free to join him later if he wished.

Merrill didn't watch as Varric headed towards the door. Instead she listened to the creak of the floorboards, becoming louder as he moved closer to the exit and to her. The creaking stopped and she heard him softly say, "Take care of yourself, Daisy."

His words were sincere.

Varric left before she could acknowledge that she had heard him.

"Merrill," Hawke called.

Merrill stepped forward, arms crossed, letting her eyes settle on his chest. She couldn't meet his eyes. Not yet.

"We will be leaving now."

Merrill nodded obediently.

Hawke led her to what was left of the entrance. She hadn't initially noticed the early moonlight entering the dark room from the unhinged, broken door, until it had touched her foot. The blue hue exposed a path of shattered wood that had scattered on the dusty floor. This was Fenris's doing, no doubt.

Hawke made no comments about the state of the door, neither about the condition nor the cause. Instead, he simply kicked the pieces of wood that lay in their path; clearing a way for her bare feet to step comfortably.

That was just like him; still considerate despite the circumstance.

"Farewell, Keeper. Hope to see you soon, just without demons and the like," Hawke joked.

"Farewell to you too, Hawke." Marethari eyed them both. "And please, take care of her."

Merrill felt a hand slip into hers, fingers lacing with a gentle squeeze.

"I will," Hawke promised.

* * *

><p>The walk to Hawke's Estate was awkward to say the least. No words had been exchanged since they had left Arianni's former home. Merrill was unsure whether or not she preferred it that way. Part of her thought it would be so much easier if Hawke would just yell and reprimand her, tell her not to show her face again, and then abandon her. At least that was something she was familiar with.<p>

Their hands remained together; his large thumb and forefinger lightly held her small hand. The sky was quickly fading to dark, the Hightown merchants were closing up shop, and the streets were clearing. The cooling wind swept between the tall buildings, its whistle drowning out the hustle of the crowd, making them sound distant.

Merrill recited her apology silently.

_'I'm sorry. So, so sorry. I can't believe I'd turn on you. With the demon…and the Fade. I don't know what I'd been thinking. To allow myself to be manipulated like that. I didn't mean any of it. I would never hurt you! Not purposely...I…I can understand if you can never forgive me.'_

Her apology ended when she heard the heavy locks shifting as Hawke opened the front door or his home. She hadn't noticed that he had let go of her hand.

They entered the foyer together. Hawke quietly locked the door behind him. He sighed once he had secured the door.

"Merrill, I'm honestly at a loss for words," he spoke.

"…I know." Merrill mentally slapped herself. "I mean, I know what I did was horrible. What I did to you and to…" _Fenris._ "…Never," She bit her lip. "I will never do it again. I promise yo-"

"She lies!"

Both Hawke and Merrill jolted and searched for source of the interruption. Their eyes spotted the faint blue glow creeping within the corner of the foyer, untouched by candlelight. Fenris stood from the bench; the lantern that had lit that corner had been smashed by his feet. The wax had spilled and hardened on the floor, suggesting that it had been broken some time before they had entered the home.

"Fenris? When did you-"

"I came here to speak with you, Hawke, as I said I would," Fenris interrupted. He stalked forward towards her. His lyrium tattoos flared as he did so; a fist balled and pulled back, ready to snap forward with precision and strength. "But now I see you've brought her here!"

Merrill gritted her teeth and turned her face away. She was lucky that Hawke had come to her defense, stepping in front of her, cutting off Fenris's path. One strong arm pushed her further back into the foyer door, distancing her from the threat. She was sandwiched between the exit and Hawke. Fenris stopped. Though he could have easily pushed Hawke aside to get to her, he had stopped, frozen, his fist still balled and ready. He watched her, his face twisted into an unusual expression. Pain? Disgust? It was difficult to tell. He swallowed back whatever he had been feeling and growled at Hawke.

"You would defend her? After all that she has done you still come to her aid!" Fenris shouted.

"I don't defend her actions, but I will not allow you to assault her-"

Fenris's fist landed, hard.

Merrill had closed her eyes immediately when she had heard the all too familiar sound of metal meeting flesh. It had brought back awful memories.

When she reopened them there was a fountain of blood gushing from Hawke's clearly broken nose. Hawke stood his ground, body still tight from when he had braced for the punch.

"I deserved that," was all he said.

Fenris drew back, the glow of his lyrium markings fading as he studied Hawke. He wasn't sure what to make of that statement.

Although it didn't look as through Fenris would attack again, it was clear his anger hadn't subsided. "Tell me everything," he ordered. "And don't think of lying to me, Hawke."

Hawke wiped the blood that seeped from his nose away from his mouth. "No use in playing dumb, I see. Too bad. I'm usually good at that." Fenris growled, not in the mood for Hawke's usual diversions. "Right, then. Where to start?"

"I would say from the beginning but who knows how far back your dishonest goes, and I do not wish be here longer than I already have," Fenris said as he crossed his arms. "…In the Fade. What had I become? Why could I not control myself?"

Hawke was silent for a moment, searching for the answer. "I'm not sure." He paused. "Perhaps we should start a little earlier. Back in the Fade, you said you wanted to speak with me. It was because you started to notice something…odd, right?"

Fenris searched his memories, face puzzled and frustrated. "I…I don't think I've truly felt like myself for some time now, ever since waking up in your home. Then when we were in the Fade, these strange feelings were magnified. When we were attacked…when she…" His temper appeared to be flaring again.

"Maker," Hawke sighed. He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he often did when stress was high, only to pull away quickly after a sharp pain reminded him of his fractured bone. He hissed. "Merrill, I think we should tell him."

"Tell me what? What are you hiding?" Fenris's eyes narrowed.

Those large elven eyes fell on her, sharp and threatening, waiting for an answer. She felt cornered, her back had remained against the foyer door. She couldn't speak; instead she nervously twisted and pulled at the hem of Hawke's shirt. She does not even remember having had reached for the fabric.

"Merrill?"

"Witch." She flinched. There was so much hatred in that one word. "What have you done?"

"I'm sorry-"

"I'm not asking for an apology! I'm demanding an answer!"

"Back in the Deep Roads," Merrill gulped, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. "You were dying, so I cast a spell that would save you."

"You used blood magic on me?" The amount of disgust on Fenris's face was evidence of his anger.

"It was to save your life, Fenris," Hawke piped in. "If there had been another way I would have told Merrill not to use any sort of magic on you. But in your condition you would have never made it out alive."

Fenris snorted. "If it had been between death or blood magic, I would have gladly chosen death."

"I would have never let that happen."

"That's not your call to make, Hawke."

"Well you weren't exactly able to give your opinion at the time," Hawke shot back. "Look, I would not interfere with your personal decisions, whether I agree with them or not, but I will never stand aside and watch you willingly die."

"Bah! There's no arguing with you." Fenris rolled his eyes.

"Many have tried."

Fenris huffed in annoyance. "None of this explains what happened in the Fade."

Hawke thought for a moment. "Maybe the spell made you more susceptible to a demon's control," He offered. "Worst case, you may be possessed."

"No," Merrill spoke. "If it had been the demon's doing Fenris would not have attacked it."

Fenris was staring daggers at her. It seemed like it was taking all his self-control not to attempt to attack her a second time. "What the demon said: About I belonging to you. What did it mean?"

"I wish I could answer that now. I really do! But I can't. I'm just as confused as you are."

"I _seriously_ doubt that."

"You're right… of course you're right. Sorry." Merrill breathed slowly, attempting to calm herself. "When I had performed the spell, I hadn't known exactly what I had been casting. Only that it strengthens the body of the one it's being performed on. I know that was stupid, but I didn't know what else I could have done! It was my fault you got hurt. I should have gotten there sooner. I should have been stronger. I should have done…a lot of things differently."

"Pathetic."

"Oh come on, Fenris. None of this was malicious," Hawke defended.

"Her intentions don't excuse her actions or thier results. And you should stop making excuses for her. She is not as innocent as she has fooled you to believe, she's not some child who needs to be cuddled. She is a mage; a reckless one at that. A danger to all around her. And she will continue to be if you continue to let your feelings blind you to the truth."

Hawke was silent, whether it was due to the validity of Fenris's statement Maker only knew.

"Please, just give me some time! Let me research! I can fix whatever this is!"

"You've done enough damage! No good will come from your attempts. Everything you touch turns to ash."

"That's not…"

_True. _

"Now if neither of you have any answers to give me, then we're done here. I've had enough of this. It seems every time I turn around my back is full of more and more daggers." Fenris stalked forward towards the exit. Hawke protectively tucked Merrill under his chin, pulling her away from his path.

Fenris removed the lock and then reached for the handle. He paused briefly, turning to her with a promise. "You have better keep away from me, witch. Come near me and Hawke will not be able to protect you. That's for certain."

Fenris left, slamming the heavy door behind him, so hard Merrill thought that it might suffer the same fate as the one back at the Alienage.

The tension within the room left with Fenris, replaced with creeping silence. Both Merrill and Hawke exhaled, having not realized they had both been holding onto their breaths.

"Well, that went far better than what I had expected. Both our hearts are still intact and Bodahn only needs to do some minor cleaning."

Hawke was right. As absolutely terrifying as that confrontation had been, they were both alive and relatively unharmed. Which reminded her.

"Your nose," Merrill spoke.

"Oh, what this? It's nothing Anders can't fix in the morning. The bleeding has mostly stopped on its own. Bloody thing's starting to hurt now though." Hawke smeared the blood onto his cheek in an attempt to wipe away what remained.

"I'll help you clean it up," She offered.

"Really, Merrill, there is no need for-"

"Please, just let me help, Hawke."

Hawke eyed her briefly before nodding and then leading her into his kitchen. Visitors didn't often get to see the kitchen; it was intended to be used by family and servants. She was only familiar with it due to her time she had spent cleaning pots, pans, and bloody rags when she had taken care of Fenris. Before then she hadn't even known that the room had existed. She had been a bit shocked when she had first seen it. It was larger than even her main room back at the Alienage, decorated with rather expensive looking curtains and containers. The cabinets and food preparation table were finely crafted as well, definitely carved by a skilled hand. But most impressive of all, to her at least, were the dwarven runes that released clean water. Clearly it was something reserved for the homes of the more highborn citizens in Kirkwall.

Merrill opened the cabinet she remembered held the clean rags, taking one and bringing it under the rune. Water poured onto the cloth; a bucket placed under the rune caught what spilled.

Hawke had taken a seat at the food preparation table, lightly touching the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. He appeared to be checking where exactly the damage had been done.

Without a word, Merrill maneuvered in front of Hawke and began to gently wipe away the blood under his nose. Hawke accepted, tilting his head up slightly so that she may do her task more efficiently.

"So you really don't know what happened in the Fade?" He asked.

"No," she answered honestly. "Just give me some time. I'll figure it out."

"You think Anders might know something? We could both go see him in the morning."

Merrill hummed in response.

"You don't want to see Anders do you? I understand. He does tend to give you a hard time about your mistakes, despite his own. I can't imagine what he might say about this though."

"That and I just don't see a point. This is blood magic. I mean, I'm sure Anders knows a lot about other forms of magic, not just healing. But I'm the one who used the spell. It should be my responsibility to figure it out."

"There's nothing wrong with getting a little help, Merrill."

"It seems like I've been getting more than a little, even without having to ask."

Merrill flipped the rag to a cleaner side and continued to wipe away the rest of the blood that stained Hawke's face. "Fenris was right. I'm not a child."

"I don't think of you as a child."

"Or a flower," Merrill continued. "Hawke, it feels like I'm never allowed to do things on my own. Fix my own mistakes. Please, just give me a day or two."

"Merrill, this is something I think needs more insight and right away. You saw what became of Fenris in there. Imagine that outside the Fade."

Merrill wiped the last of the blood and pulled away. She remembered vividly what he had become: the burning aura, the blackened eyes, the speed, and the power. The untamed beast would certainly be something incredibly difficult to control.

"Come to think of it, do you even know how we manage to send him back?" Hawke ask.

Merrill shook her head. "No, I had already been… _killed_." Such an odd thing to say out loud.

"Exactly," Hawke stated. "The moment you had disappeared, Fenris returned to his normal self and disappeared soon after. Merrill, I know the rules of the Fade are different from our own but that…that…"

For a moment it seemed like Hawke couldn't find the words. He looked down at his lap and rubbed his moistened stubble, searching. Finally, he stood up from the table and placed his large calloused hands on her arms. Merrill looked up at him strangely. This was an uncommon and oddly intimate gesture from Hawke.

"I don't want it to ever come to that. For either of you."

She turned away, not used to the serious tone he had taken. The shame of her actions reddened her cheeks. She had been selfish, focused only on her own feelings. She hadn't really given any thought as to how Hawke, or even Varric, must have felt; being attacked and having to essentially kill not just one but two friends. From the way Hawke had looked at her, it seemed to have had a great effect on him. Looking back, it should have been more obvious to her. He had been rather physical after awakening from the Fade. As if he feared that he might actually lose her.

The guilt was setting in again, and it was just as strong as when she first had been thrown back through the Veil.

"I understand, Hawke." Merrill pulled away from his touch. She placed the bloody rag into a bucket of water. "I'm going to go home. Do some research. I'll be back as soon as I learn more about the spell."

"Merrill, the sun has already gone down. Maybe you should stay here with me. It would be safer," Hawke suggested.

"You're right, but I can't. My books are at my home…and, honestly, I would like some time to think. Alone."

Hawke sighed. "If anything at all happens -if you feel that you may be in danger- come straight here. You can use the spare room again."

"Thank you, Hawke. I promise I will."

* * *

><p>The wind was strong.<p>

It pushed against her, cooling her exposed hands and feet despite it being a warm summer night. She was getting closer to her home, the events of the day seeming more and more like a distant memory with every step. It was dark now, nearly pitch black. Her elven eyes could only see so far. The lanterns that hung from the Lowtown buildings were her only visible guides. Although the light was not strong enough to pierce much of the darkness, the yellow glow emitted from the flames lined a path. Her other guides were the waves, splashing and showering the docks as they crashed against the wooden pillars, the smell of the tides that intensified as she ventured further, and the chirping crickets that had made a home in the small patches of grass that had managed to grow near the water. It's funny how much better her sense of direction was when she relied almost exclusively on nature.

She continued on her path, following the sights and sounds around her attentively.

Her pointed ears perked up as she heard the rustle of leaves. It was the vhenadahl. She walked down the steps into the Alienage. The branches of the great tree swayed heavily above her. It was unusually dim. It appeared some of the candles surrounding the base of the large tree had gone out.

She hummed.

Strange. The crickets that had made a home under the large roots of the vhenadahl were rather quiet. Normally she would hear them chirping all night as they feasted on the rotting fruits left carelessly on the ground or the small moths attracted to the flames from the candles.

A sudden chill shivered down her spine; it was not from the wind.

Up until this point she had not noticed the presence lurking in the shadows, following her every step. It had been looming over her the entire time.

She kept her head forward, not letting the shadow know she was aware of its presence. She tapped into her pool of magic in case it attempted an attack, but also quickened her pace as she pushed onwards. Her home was only a few feet away and it wouldn't be wise to start a confrontation that could possibly be avoided.

She unlocked and entered her home as fast as her hands allowed. Once her door was secured, she pressed an ear to it, listening for any signs suggesting that the lurker was still out there, watching. She sighed in relief when the crickets began chirping again.

_I'm sorry, Hawke. It looks like I'm going to have to break my promise. _

She entered her bedroom and stood beside her bed. Hidden underneath were the answers, trapped between the covers of a tome. Secrets not intended to be read by those who did not practice the forbidden art. She sunk to her knees, and reached for the tome, pulling it from the shadow. It felt heavier than how she had remembered. As before, her elegant fingers traced the etchings that decorated the cover.

She felt slightly nauseated as she removed the latch that kept the bindings in place.

Little did she know eyes had been watching; much closer than she would have imagined. They were within the dark spaces of her very room, mere inches from where she sat on the floor. They had kissed her slender fingers as she had reached into the shadows and had taken their gift.

And they now relished in thought of her finding the truth.

* * *

><p>Big thanks to my beta OrielleD for all her corrections, suggestions, and for encouraging me to continue this story.<p>

I apologize for the long wait. I hope there is enough in this chapter to make up for it.

And for those who are interested, the entire end was written while listening to a self composed dark ambient music called "Dark Inspirations" by a German youtuber named Datenconan. I discovered him through searching remixes of Silent Hill titles. He did an incredible remake of "Room of Angel" from Silent Hill 4: The Room. One youtuber describes it well, as "hauntingly beautiful".

Give it a listen; preferably at night, in the dark, with a great pair of headphones.


	9. Hunger

**Blood Bonds**

_Merrill learns that blood magic can never truly save a life at the brink of death. There are always sacrifices and consequences._

Chapter 9: Hunger

The amber liquid slushed lazily around in the wooden container. It tasted awful. Bitter. It burned as it went down, settling in her stomach, warming it. That part felt rather nice. The disgusting aftertaste that soon followed- not so much. Her face twisted as she swallowed back her nausea.

Her pint was half empty. The effects of the alcohol were setting in, but not as quickly as she would have liked. It would have been easier if the alcohol didn't taste like liquid squeezed from an old, sweaty boot.

She took another sip.

Creators, the drink was horrid.

The loud drunken belching and laughter had helped her keep her mind away from her quandary, but now it seemed she was becoming accustomed to it. Every now and then her mind would drift back to the last two days; locked away in her bedroom, laying in her straw-filled bed, blankets pulled over her head, biting her nails to the sensitive pink skin it had once protected. By the Dread Wolf, what she had read...what she now knew...

"Stop it. Just stop it," she chided herself.

Her heart had begun beating rapidly. Thumping against her chest so loudly she thought others might hear. She curled over her drink. One hand gripping the handle of her cup until her knuckles were white, the other, the front of her chest. Oh, how it hurt.

She slowed her breathing. Inhaling the scent of her tightness in her chest faded and her heart returned to normalcy. She sighed and frowned into her cup.

"Why the long face, Kitten?"

Merrill looked up from where she sat to see Isabela. The pirate captain leaned comfortably against the wooden support beam, her own drink in hand. A gentle smile on her full, painted lips.

"Oh, Isabela. I did not see you there." Merrill hadn't realized how exhausted she was. Just speaking seemed to have had taken quite of bit of her energy.

"That's because I've just gotten here." Isabela took a seat across from her, placing her mug down with a _clank_. She laced her fingers together and studied her. "You look awful, Kitten. I've never seen you this sad."

"It's nothing, really."

"You're such a bad liar! You can barely bluff your way in cards, let alone sitting here, hunched over, drowning your sorrows in cheap alcohol," Isabela laughed lightly. She then leaned forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Come on. What's wrong?"

Merrill's lips quivered. "I've done something awful, Isabela." She hiccuped, the details of her crime dieing in her throat. "Something...terrible. Something that can never be forgiven."

"We all have, Kitten. Everyone sitting around us has rotting skeletons in their closet, and I'm willing to bet some quite literally."

"None like mine."

"You wouldn't be the first one here to attempt to kill a friend. I can certainly speak from personal experience." Isabela took a sip of her drink. "Granted, it was over who rightfully earned the treasure rather than mystical powers given by a demon." Another sip. "Oh, and we didn't remain friends afterwards. Corpses are horrible conversationalist."

Merrill's eyes widened. "You know?"

"Of course I know. Hawke told me," Isabela smiled. "It took some prying, but I managed to get it out of him. I knew something was wrong when he showed up here with a bandaged nose and no good story to accompany it. Hawke! A man who has a story for every broken nail! Varric filled me in on the details, naturally. I don't know how much of it to believe, most of what he had said was rather far-fetched. Apparently you turned into some sort of demon yourself, complete with black eyes and fire. I find that hard to imagine. You? Merrill? As fearsome as a demon?" She laughed heartily. "I've seen bunnies more intimidating!" Then, with a brow raised, she leaned forward, capturing Merrill's eyes. "So it's true. You really did fight Hawke in the Fade."

Merrill looked down at her forgotten drink, her cheeks flushed. "...Yes."

"And Fenris protected you? Fought alongside you?" Isabela continued to question.

"Protected me?" She hadn't thought of it that way. She supposed it was technically true that Fenris had protected her. Hawke would have certainly brought her to her knees much sooner had Fenris not shielded her. But there was discomfort in the use of that word. What Fenris had done was not a service. "No, I wouldn't say that."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because he didn't do it willingly."

Isabela hummed in understanding. She leaned back leisurely in her seat, bringing her mug with her. She took a long swig of her alcohol, finishing it, and then placed the empty mug onto the table. "What's done is done. Buck up and move on."

"If only it were that easy."

"Oh, but it can be, Kitten! The past is the past. There's no point in dwelling in it unless it brings you gold or giggles."

Merrill was silent. She didn't look at Isabela. Instead she watched as her thumbs rubbed the sides of the cup she held between her hands.

"Merrill," Isabela said sweetly. "Our mistakes makes us who we are. We learn from them and then we move on."

Merrill remained silent. Continuing with the circles she had been making with her thumbs, stopping only when Isabela's hands covered her own. "What you did does not make you a bad person. You have a good heart, Merrill, nothing will ever change that."

"I'm not so sure anymore, Isabela."

* * *

><p>"I will never understand why you put up with him."<p>

"I will never understand why I put up with any of you lot."

Anders sighed as he carefully removed the bandages that covered Hawke's swollen nose. The bruising wasn't quite as bad as it had been days before, though he was still rather purple under the eyes. The pulsing headache that had kept him awake for most nights had eased, though it sometimes reemerged whenever he was around Anders. He wondered why that was.

"I'm serious, Hawke! I still cannot believe you'd let him just walk away after striking you! He could have taken your nose."

"Which is precisely why I'd let him walk away. I like my nose." Anders sucked his teeth in annoyance. Hawke rolled his eyes. "I believe we had this same conversation yesterday, Anders. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"No, I haven't. It's not something one would forget so easily."

Hawke groaned. Anders was not just referring to their little chat about his injury.

* * *

><p>Hawke had appeared on the clinic's steps at the break of dawn, waiting for Anders to open the door. He had been relieved to see no potential patients lingering at the front of the meager facility. It seemed the extra, tiresome days the healer had spent working had quite a positive effect. In the past, there would have been swarms of the sick and injured lying and wailing at the front of the entrance. He remembered having to sidestep limbs and pools of vomit on one attempt at visiting the mage, only to have turned back halfway when it had no longer seemed worth it.<p>

When Anders had finally opened the door to his clinic, he was taken aback at the sight of Hawke; standing in front of the door, with his crooked nose, and a wide grin that devolved him of any innocence he may have seemly had.

"What did you do?" Anders had asked plainly.

"You're going to love this," Hawke had said. "Let's speak inside. The rats are staring."

Once inside, he had taken a seat on one of the cots and waited patiently for Anders to ask the inevitable question he'd not been eager to answer.

"What happened?"

Hawke had told him everything: about the Fade, about the demon, about Merrill, about Fenris, every detail he had remembered. During his telling of what had happened, Anders had sat beside him and simply listened, engrossed by his story.

There had been a moment of silence after he had finished his recount of the events, Anders had still been absorbing his words it had appeared. Hawke had watched the mage's solemn expression, attempting to read from it what he could. He hadn't been sure of what he had been looking for from Anders.

Looking back now, it had probably been some sort of assurance. Assurance from the mage that what had happened in the Fade could not happen in their world. After all, the rules of the Fade differ from that of Thedas. That much he knows to be true. But even so, deep down still lingered doubt; and with that doubt came his greatest fear. Loss.

_Father...Carver...Bethany...Mother... _

Everyone he had ever cared for either dead or gone. At least, that had been true some years ago. Now it had seemed his motley group of outcasts had become a surrogate family. A family that can be a right pain in the ass at times (much like Carver had been on almost any given day), and comforting on others.

He could not suffer to lose them. Any of them. They were all he had left. And if there was the slightest chance that what had happened in the Fade could happen within their own realm, that puts his companions, and the civilians of Kirkwall, at risk. Maker only knows how many lives would be lost before he or someone else could put a stop to it; but there was one thing he knew for certain.

He would lose both Merrill and Fenris.

When Anders had finally spoken Hawke had been disappointed to hear no answers, but more questions. It had seemed to have been too much to have hoped for. Anders, nor Justice, had any knowledge of the spell.

"Blood magic that controls the minds of others is certainly not unheard of; it's common practice in the Tevinter Imperium if rumors are to be believed," Anders had said. "But then for it to also buff the victim's physical abilities -and to such an extent- that is unusual. It sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

It had become painfully apparent that nothing would have came from their exchange, especially without the two individuals that had been affected by the spell.

Anders had asked if he had seen either Merrill or Fenris at all after the ordeal at his home, suggesting that he would like to evaluate them, Fenris in particular. Hawke had answered, telling him that he had not seen either of them, and as for Merrill, he did not plan on checking up on her for another day.

The healer had been stunned to silence. Oh, how Hawke had wished that silence had remained.

Anders had called him mad.

"You can't be serious. You left her alone? Fenris nearly took your head off last night! By your own admission, you said he could barely control himself! Maker! He probably has already ripped her apart! What in Andraste's name are you thinking, Hawke?!" Anders had shouted.

"Don't think the thought hadn't crossed my mind. It certainly had," Hawked had rubbed his temples, the stress he had felt the night before having had returned. "But Merrill asked for some privacy, and quite frankly, I think it may do her some good. Fenris I can't imagine leaving his home. Not yet. Not until he has finished all the wine in his cellar. If anyone, it's him I should be checking up on."

Anders had disagreed. "You are far too trusting of those two, Hawke. One of these days, it might just lead to tragedy"

"Let's hope it never does."

"Better to make it so it doesn't."

Hawke had grimaced. "And what is it that you suggest, Anders?"

"That you keep a sharp eye and not be blinded by your feelings for either of them."

"Oh, is that all?"

"I'm sure I can come up with more."

And then they had spent the rest of the morning exchanging one snarky remark after another, until Hawke had finally left for The Hanged Man. Where he was then accosted by Isabela.

That had been a headache ridden day.

* * *

><p>"Let's not discuss that now. How about we return to the subject of my nose? My how big and colorful it is!"<p>

Anders sighed, going along with Hawke's attempt to change the subject despite his personal feelings. "I don't know why you are complaining. It doesn't look that bad."

"It doesn't look that bad? Any more colors on my face and I might inspire an Orlesian dressmaker."

"As vain as ever, I see," Anders chuckled. "Funny. You didn't complain this much when I had to set your nose back in place."

"Because I was in shock from the searing pain."

"That's not how it works, Hawke." Anders said plainly. "If it makes you feel any better, it's looks like the swelling has gone down quite a bit."

"I bet the swelling would go down further with a pair of glowing hands." Hawke batted his lashes.

Anders's eyes narrowed. "I have the sneaking suspicion that was your primary reason for coming here."

"Don't be ridiculous! I love trudging through the Undercity for unnecessary check ups!"

"OK. Alright, no need for the sarcasm. I've had enough of it for one day," Anders sighed, lightly pressing his fingertips against the bridge of Hawke's nose.

"Now that's more like it," Hawke stated happily as he felt the soreness from his nose, and the slight headache he had woken up with, slip away.

"See? I told you he would be here getting special treatment."

"Well, would you look who's here." Hawke did not need to turn his head to know that it had been Varric. "Why don't you have a seat on that box over there and wait until I've finished my check-up. It shouldn't take long now."

"I'll just stand, thanks. I don't plan on staying, and soon, neither will you," Varric stated.

"Oh? And why is that?" Hawke turned to face his dwarven companion once the glow from Anders's fingers faded away.

His eyes widened.

Given what Varric had said upon entering the clinic, he knew he had not come alone. Of all people to be at Varrics side he had been expecting Isabela, standing there with a hand on her hip and a smug smile, waiting to pull a saucy remark from her seemingly bottomless bag of retorts. What he had not been expecting was Fenris.

The elf had seen better days it appeared. His face and skin were pale and disgustingly clammy, sprinkled with dust and dirt. His hair was a bit more untamed than usual, tussled, and moistened by sweat. It seemed Fenris hadn't bothered to wash after their altercation, and had probably slept on the floor of his unkempt home. The grim clung to him, like it does to a garden slug.

His disposition was guarded, arms firmly crossed and body tight. His eyes constantly shifting from Hawke's face to his tough, leather boots. Embarrassed about the night before he suspected. Understandable.

It looked as if Hawke would have to be the one to break the ice. Fenris was having a hard enough time simply maintaining eye contact.

"Fenris? I'm surprised to see you so soon. Has the Aggregio Pavali in your cellar depleted already?"

"I- uh...no..."

_The ice has remained intact. No problem._

"Thank the Maker! I had planned on visiting your home today, you know. Just to be sure you didn't need to be turned onto your side and have vomit wiped away."

An oh-so light chuckle escaped Fenris.

"Hmph. No doubt that would have been the case had I not crushed nearly every bottle I held." A small smile crept on Fenris's lips.

Now that was more like the elf he remembered.

"I suppose that's good then. Saves me a trip," Hawke smiled. "So what did you two fine gentlemen come to see me about?"

"What? Are we not allowed to pay a visit to an injured friend without other motives?" Varric asked. "I have to say, I'm a little hurt, Hawke."

"Pfft. That would have been a little more convincing had you two brought me flowers. Honestly! Where are your manners? It is not common courtesy to bring a patient a bouquet of flowers?"

"What good are flowers that you can't smell?"

"Shows what you know, Varric! My nose is completely healed. Isn't that right, Anders?"

"Indeed it is," Anders said plainly, too busy reorganizing his station to add anymore than that.

"See! I must say, it would have been nice to have had something to complement the intoxicating aroma of piss and desperation that is Darktown. Embriums, perhaps?"

"Now you're just trying to make me feel guilty. If you want them so bad, go and pick your own damn flowers. There's enough shit around here. I'm sure there's something growing somewhere."

Fenris cleared his throat, gaining the attention of his companions.

"I came to apologize to you, Hawke," Fenris began. "I had entered your home without permission and had assaulted you. That was...unbecoming of someone you call a friend. I am not worthy of that title."

"Come now, Fenris. There is no need to apologize. As I had said before, I absolutely deserved it."

"Even so, I should not have reacted the way I did. I was blinded by rage, and for that I am sorry."

Hawke watched Fenris closely. He could not put his finger on it, but there was something unusual about the elf's body language. His demeanor was normally so controlled, a bit on edge when they were out of the city walls, but controlled nonetheless. Now it seemed he was struggling to maintain that control. There was a slight tremor in his hands, and he was shifting from foot to foot more often than usual. Very subtle movements that would have been overlooked by anyone else. This wasn't from anger. That was something he was familiar with. No. This was something new, but not entirely foreign. The best way he could describe it was that it looked as if Fenris was itching to move.

"Your rage was justified. I cannot imagine how you must have felt being used in such a way again."

"No. You cannot."

"Are you feeling well, Fenris?"

"It depends on what you mean by well. As I've said before, I haven't felt like myself for quite some time. I...I'm no longer sure how I should be feeling." Fenris paused briefly. "I suppose if I were to put it to words: numb...empty...In desperate need of...something," he shrugged.

Hawke quirked a brow. "What do you make of this, Anders?"

Anders hummed lowly. "He has been through multiple traumatic experiences. First being pummeled to near death by an ogre and then being controlled with blood magic. It could possibly be traumatic stress. Honestly, I'm not sure if there is anything I can do. There is nothing physically wrong with him from what I can see. Perhaps a couple more days of bed rest-"

"No!" Fenris snapped. "I cannot stay locked away in that cursed home any longer! Hawke, some time ago you said if I needed to...relieve some aggression, you would be willing to accompany me."

"That certainly sounds like something I would suggest."

"Is that offer still available? Or shall I go alone?" Fenris said sharply.

Hawke was baffled by Fenris's sudden hostility. Perhaps this is what he has been attempting to control.

"Of course. In fact, I think the exercise will do us all some good. Where would you like to go?"

"Sundermount. I've spent far too many days than I would have cared to traversing The Wounded Coast."

"Agreed. A change of scenery would be welcoming. We'll have a nice view of the mountains as we slaughter large spiders. Why don't you two wait outside while I try to convince Anders to join us and get away from all the sick people."

"Excuse me?"

"Alright," Varric said. "Just try not to keep us waiting. I think the stench of this place is starting to cling to my coat."

Varric and Fenris left, leaving Hawke and Anders to speak in private.

"What was that about, Hawke?" Anders's asked firmly. "You know I can't just leave the clinic to fool around in the mountains."

"Anders, did you notice anything odd about Fenris?"

"How could I not?" Anders answered. "He seemed rather...skittish. Part of me was expecting him to just run off without explanation. Reminds me of certain former Templars."

"Exactly so. Now why do you think that is?"

"Had this been anyone else, I would say lyrium dust withdrawals. But I doubt even he would stoop that low. He has been through quite a lot, and I'm not just speaking about the Deep Roads or Merrill. Perhaps the stress of it all is beginning to boil over."

"So now you understand why I need you?"

"Hawke, this is far beyond my capabilities. With all that has happened, I doubt he would accept any remedies that included magic in any shape. I think I might end up losing my hands if I were to try to help him."

"I'm only asking you to help me keep an eye on him. And if something were to happen, your sleep spell may be of use."

"I suspect it will have little effect, especially if he becomes anything like what you had described in the Fade." Hawke visibly flinched. Anders continued. "Are you expecting something to happen?"

"I'm just taking precautions."

"So, you're finally taking my advice?" Anders asked with a slight smile tugging the corners of his lips.

"Absolutely! And that is why I want you to come along. Because if he happens to kill us all, I want the last words I hear to be, 'I told you so'."

"Or you would take me to the grave with you, rather than have me live more than a second knowing that I was right."

"You know me so well."

* * *

><p>"Elf?" He heard Varric say. Or at least he thought. He couldn't really hear over his own retching.<p>

It had hit him so suddenly and so violently, just moments after exiting the mage's clinic. He had nearly toppled over Varric when he ran towards the shaded corner, seeking the slightest of privacy. He was surprised at how much had come out of his empty stomach. It was entirely bile and wine.

"Elf?" He had heard again. This time a little louder than before. "You feeling alright, elf? Do you need me to get Blondie?"

Fenris attempted to speak, but all that came out was another river of vomit. He wiped his mouth clean with his palm and cursed to himself. He groaned and swallowed, tasting the wine he had drank that morning. He thought he was through with vomiting, having expelled most of the contents in his stomach the night before.

"I'm fine," Fenris hissed.

"Right. I should have known you were just peachy. Silly me."

As Fenris stood up and gave his mouth one final wipe, the door of the clinic swung open. Hawke appeared along with Anders; he could tell that Hawke had immediately sensed that something was off. Both men glanced towards Varric for answers, having yet to see him hiding in the shadow.

Varric shrugged, directing them to his presence. "The elf lost his lunch."

And once again, all eyes were on him.

"Fenris? What happened? Are you al-"

"I'm fine!" Fenris yelled with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. If he heard that question asked once more he could not be held responsible for whatever happens after. "It's just the stench of this place." Fenris stated before walking off, feeling his companions' concerned gazes on his back. He hated that. It made no difference to him what their intent was, it made him feel pitied all the same.

It wasn't long before he heard them following closely behind. He kept his eyes forward despite the whisper behind him. It was Anders no doubt. He could pick up that whine in the middle of a storm- unfortunately. Soon after, he heard a pair of heavy boots advancing on him, matching his stride.

"Where are you going?" Hawke asked.

"Sundermount," Fenris stated, his frustration evident.

"Well before we head there I need to pick up my daggers."

Fenris abruptly stopped, letting out a long, heavy sigh. "You left your weapons?"

"Yes, well, I hadn't planned on leaving Kirkwall today. What with having had a broken nose and all. Didn't want some bandit swinging a mallet at it."

"Do what you must."

"Excellent. We will be off to Sundermount soon enough," Hawke assured.

Fenris snorted in response and began walking in the direction of Hawke's estate. He clenched his shaky fists and tried to steady his breathing. His body was heating up. Sweat was seeping down his neck and pooling in small pockets were his clothing wrinkled. It was a disgusting feeling. As if he were not already filthy! He needed to cut something,** soon**, rip it to pieces, utterly destroy it, perhaps with his bare hands. This hunger he felt in the pit of his stomach. This _desperation_. It was eating away at him. It was causing his muscles to ache, his head to spin, and his blood to boil.

He huffed.

But at least he could take some solace in that sweet smell he seemed to be moving towards.

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, I know. A very late chapter. I can't say there won't be any more, because I am almost positive there will be.

This is unbeta-ed, so if you see any mistakes, especially distracting ones, please let me know so that I may fix it right away.


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